


31 Days of GyuHao

by were1993



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: AUs galore! :D, day 10: electrician au side soonhoon, day 11: royal au, day 12: alien au side soonwoo, day 13: reaminated corpse au, day 14: soulmate au type 2 kinda junhao, day 15: hybrid au, day 16: disease outbreak au side junhoon a lil angsty, day 17: ghost au, day 18: college au side jeonghui/cheolsoo/soonwoo, day 19: band fic traveling 96line-ish??, day 1: not quite a guardian angel au, day 20: the lost prince au yes i wrote an au for my own fic side wonhui verkwan 2hyun, day 21: beauty and the beast au side (or rather main) soonwoo, day 22: college au again, day 24: soulmate au type 3 ANGST WARNING ANGST, day 25: cafe au, day 26: myth-ish au, day 27: band fic time travel, day 28: supernatural au spin off of old fic, day 29: zodiac guardians (sailor moon insp), day 2: soulmate au type 1 super small hint of haoseok and soonhoon, day 30: game of thrones AU, day 31: halloween town AU, day 3: mermaid au, day 4: band fic, day 5: modern royalty au, day 6: lifeguard au side wonhui, day 7: hospital au side jihan, day 8: model au, day 9: scifi-ish cloning au, day: 23: more college au house party, edit 11/1 added fanart to day 19, edit 11/3 added art to day 30, happy birth month to me! :D, please read the table of content (chp 1), will have major warnings there!, will update side pairings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 61,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were1993/pseuds/were1993
Summary: 31 self-indulgent GyuHao fics every day in October!Finished on 10/31/2017Thank you everyone for a wonderful October <3





	1. Table of Content

**Author's Note:**

  * For [were1993](https://archiveofourown.org/users/were1993/gifts).



> Why October? 'Cause this is also a birthday present to myself LOL

**31 Days of GyuHao**

~ Table of Content ~

_Dedicated to my fellow GyuHao fans_

**Day 1:**

[Stay With Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27794505) | PG | word count: 1864 

[not quite a guardian angel AU] Mingyu wishes upon Minghao's star. 

 

**Day 2:**

[Turning Time Pieces](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27823005) | T | word count: 2201

[Soulmate AU] Frozen physically at the age of 18, Xu Minghao has yet to meet his soulmate. It's been more than two thousand years.

(side pairings: haoseok, soonhoon)

 

**Day 3:**

[The Little Merman](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27846894) | T | word count: 852 (+ a little art ^^)

[Mermaid AU] Minghao is a sea witch. Mingyu is a merman prince.

 

**Day 4:**

[1004](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27868818)| T | word count: 1796

[Band Fic] Jeonghan enjoys his birthday but Mingyu is acting suspiciously. 

 

**Day 5:**

[My Prince, Kim Mingyu](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27892041) | T | word count: 646

[Modern Royalty] Minghao wakes up to a hangover and the Prince of the Republic of Korea.

 

**Day 6:**

[(Not Really) Baywatch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27914025) | T | word count: 2397

[Lifeguard AU] Mingyu’s not a lifeguard (not that Minghao knows), and he doesn't need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (not that Minghao knows).

 

 **Day 7:**  

[we misunderstood (but now we're good)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27936090) | T | word count: 2971

[Hospital AU] Dr. Kim Mingyu is yelling into a refrigerator in frustration. The reason is a certain surgeon, Dr. Seo Myungho. 

 

**Day 8:**

[Croquis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27962607)| T | word count: 1298

[Model AU] Mingyu is a model who wants to be a fashion designer. Minghao is a fashion designer who wants a muse. Together, they will both get what they want.

 

**Day 9:**

[Circle: Our Worlds Connect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/27992691) | T | word count: 1033

[Inspired by Circle: Two Worlds Connect] In the year 2035, Xu Minghao and Kim Mingyu are thirty-eight-years-old, but after fifteen years, Kim Mingyu still looks like he's twenty-three.

 

**Day 10:**

[Let Us Turn You On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28018032) | (surprisingly) T | word count: 2062

[Electrician AU] The van looks sketchy and the slogan sounds like something out of a bad porno. The driver steps out, and Minghao is leaning towards the bad porn.

 

**Day 11:**

[The Prince and the Kitchen Boy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28041891) | T | word count: 1546

[Royalty AU] Minghao is the Crowned Prince and Mingyu is a kitchen boy.

 

**Day 12:**

[Assignment: Earth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28064571) | T | word count: 1800

[Alien AU] Kim Mingyu is an alien trying to hide his not-so-human tendencies, and he's crushing on his human roommate, Xu Minghao. 

 

**Day 13:**

[The Corpse Herder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28085619) | T | word count: 1098

[僵尸 Chinese Zombie AU] Xu Minghao is a corpse herder who is tasked with transporting the body of Kim Mingyu from Beijing, China to Hanyang, Joseon. At least after rigor mortis, Mingyu can walk on his own. Minghao wasn't about to carry the corpse all the way home. 

 

**Day 14:**

[My I(m about to strangle you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28112892) | T | word count: 1712

[Soulmate AU no. 2] In which Minghao is upset at his soulmate and Mingyu helps smooth things over. (No, Minghao and Mingyu are not soulmates, but that does not mean they're not in love.)

 

**Day 15:**

[Stray Into My Heart (and Pants) ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28139004)| T+ | word count: 1386

[Hybrid AU] Mingyu isn't going home for the holidays. He misses Minghao terribly, but Minghao isn't a stray cat without reason. 

 

**Day 16:**

[1.17 g/mL](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28167078) | T | word count: 2355

[Disease Outbreak AU] An unknown virus causes red blood cells to be unable to carry oxygen, effectively suffocating the infected person. There is no cure, and the only treatment is constant blood infusions. Mingyu is a nurse who works at a blood transfusion center, and Minghao is a donor who doesn't quite meet the requirements.

 

**Day 17:**

[Helpful Haunts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28192983) | T | word count: 1711

[Ghost AU] Mingyu and Minghao are helpful ghosts, haunting Wonwoo's apartment.

 

**Day 18:**

[Oppa, Oppa! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28212348)| T | word count: 1971

[College AU] Jeonghan tricks Minghao yet somehow it's still Junhui's fault. (aka. Jeonghan teaches Minghao when to use the word oppa.)

 

**Day 19:**

[冰糖葫芦](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28408704) | T | word count: 2080

[band fic] Minghao takes Mingyu out to snack in Beijing.

 

**Day 20:**

[The Stubborn Prince](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28409164) | T | word count: 2832

[The Lost Prince AU] Xu Minghao is the Eastern Prince, and he really doesn’t need a knight.

 

**Day 21:**

[How Does a Moment Last Forever?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28409664) | T | word count: 1824

[Beauty and the Beast AU] In which Mingyu and Minghao are a part of the cursed staff. (aka. Mingyu is a rolling pin and Minghao is a bronze dragon statue.)

 

**Day 22:**

[Pretty Creepy ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28409920)| T | word count: 1787

[College AU] Mingyu is a huge fan of The8, and he gets the chance to tutor his idol.

 

**Day 23:**

[Gucci Belt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28410024) | T-ish | word count: 803

[College AU] Mingyu just wants Minghao to pay attention to him.

 

**Day 24:**

[Eraser](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28410428) | T | word count: 690

[Soul Mate AU] [Warning Character Death] Someone in Minghao's grade dies. Car accident, they said.

 

**Day 25:**

[Cafe Feud: The Not-Quite Romeo and Juliet Story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28436520) | T | word count: 2502

[Cafe AU] Kwon Soonyoung only has his employee's best interests at heart, and fraternizing with the enemy is  _not_ what Myungho should be doing!

 

**Day 26:**

[The Dragon and the Phoenix](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28478664) | T | word count: 1904

[Mystic AU] Minghao is a dragon, and Mingyu is one of his destined phoenixes. 

 

**Day 27**

[Dear Myself](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28505480) | T | word count: 735

[Band Fic] Twenty-seven-year-old Mingyu ends up in 2017.

 

**Day 28**

[last christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28534520) | T | word count: 769

[Supernatural AU] Last Christmas, Minghao gave his heart away. (aka. The doctor's perspective on the transplanting a witch's heart into a human's body.)

(makes the most sense if you've read [last christmas i gave you my heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9078544))

 

**Day 29**

[Pretty Guardian Kim Mingyu](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28572308) | T | word count: 4828

[Zodiac Guardian AU] Sixteen-year-old Kim Mingyu realizes his destiny as a Zodiac Guardian! With Bongbong to guide him, Mingyu finds new friends and fights evil foes. He may or may not find love on the way.

 

**Day 30**

[A Right of Succession](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28609336) | T | word count: 5852 (holy fuck) 

[Game of Thrones AU][Warning Character Death] Xu Minghao of House Targaryen will reclaim his rightful throne. 

 

**Day 31**

[Third Time's the Charm (Usually)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12234018/chapters/28640244) | T | word count: 3394

[Halloween Town AU] Minghao is the Jack-o-Lantern of the town, and he wants to show his love to Mingyu, the Rag Doll. What's this? There are pink hearts everywhere! What's this? ...Valentine's Day?

 

**The End**

**\- . -**

**10/31/2017**


	2. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [not quite a guardian angel AU] Mingyu wishes upon Minghao's star.

**Stay With Me**

**\---**

Kim Mingyu does not understand. He works hard and is a perfectly well-mannered young man. He’s a great cook, and everyone’s mothers love him. Yet, for some reason, he’s single and has been for the past twenty-seven years of his life.

“Why can’t I have that?” Mingyu asks quietly, staring at the table next to them.

The small barbeque restaurant bustles with activity—servers carrying various cuts of meat and guests yelling for more sides or alcohol. The noise almost drowns out Mingyu’s voice, but his two friends still catch the longing question.

“Stop eyeing other people’s food,” Jihoon says curtly. Seokmin nudges the elder and gestures toward the other table. Jihoon grumbles but turns to look just in time to see the couple link hands on the table. “What? They’re on a date.”

“Why can’t I have that?” Mingyu repeats, looking away with a sigh. He squints into his full shot glass like he could read some answer in the clear liquid. “Aren’t I a catch?”

“I think you just intimidate everyone,” Jihoon shrugs, poking at the meat on the grill. Mingyu gives his friend an incredulous look before knocking back a soju shot.

“This is coming from the guy who has scared everyone in our group at some point,” Mingyu says skeptically. Jihoon holds up his chopsticks threateningly and Mingyu flinches on instinct.

“Have you ever heard of the phrase, _too much of a good thing is bad_?” Seokmin laughs, pouring himself another shot. “When did Seungcheol-hyung say he was coming?”

“Whenever he stops sucking face,” Jihoon grumbles. He flips a piece of meat aggressively and Mingyu pulls back as the oil splatters towards him. “He has his own room, but no”—he flips another piece of meat with the same level of ferocity—“ hyung has to make out in the”—flips another—“fucking”—Mingyu leans backwards from the airborne oil droplets—“living room.”

“He finally made it out of our singles club,” Seokmin laughs, quickly pouring Jihoon another soju shot and pushing it toward the older man. Jihoon eyes the alcohol and sighs, relinquishing his hold on the metal tongs. Mingyu quickly  grabs them from across the table. Seokmin winks at him and mouths— _I got you._  

“Let’s just drink! Who cares about Choi Seungcheol anyways!” Jihoon declares, standing up suddenly. “Forever single!”

“When did he drink that much?” Seokmin whispers, trying to coax their eldest into his seat. With a hard tug, Seokmin manages to get the other back into the chair and apologizes to the group of business men sitting behind them.

“He started drinking before you came,” Mingyu shrugs. He looks at Seokmin sheepishly and breaks out into a goofy smile. “I might have too.”

“I—so I’m the caretaker tonight,” Seokmin says blankly. He glares at Mingyu. “I’m going to leave you on a park bench.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mingyu says. He doesn’t quite feel the alcohol yet, but Mingyu puts on his silliest grin just to annoy his friend. He holds out his shot glass and pouts—something he knows that he does when he’s tipsy.

“Don’t tempt me, Kim Mingyu,” Seokmin warns, but he leans over to pour him another one.

“Is the meat done?” Jihoon asks, staring blankly at the blazing flames. Mingyu breaks out of his little act with a gasp—the meat was burning!

Seungcheol doesn’t make it to their monthly drinking session, texting a pretty lame excuse in their kakao chat. After too many rounds of barbequed meat and soju, Seokmin wrestles both of them into a taxi and throws Mingyu off in front of his apartment building.

“I’m trusting you to make it to the door,” Seokmin says. “I hope I don’t find you sitting out there tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mingyu giggles. Seokmin raises his eyebrow, looking between the drunkard sitting on the front steps of his apartment building and the drunkard passed out in the backseat of a taxi.

“Alright,” Seokmin sighs. He gets back into the taxi. “Call me if you die.”

“Will do!” Mingyu yells, waving enthusiastically. He watches as the taxi drives away, stopping at the intersection and disappearing with the turn signal.

Sitting on the steps of his apartment building in the dead of night, Mingyu suddenly feels lonelier than ever. He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s a good-looking guy with a pretty impressive boyfriend resume—other than the fact he’s got no experience.

He cooks, he cleans, he has pets, he likes cuddling, he’s  willing to be cheesy, he works out, he—well, he is tired of hearing: _Anyone would be lucky to have you, you’re perfect boyfriend material!_

If that’s the case, then why—a nagging little voice that sounds like his younger sister whispers, _oppa, you basically look for happily ever after in just one date and honestly, it’s overwhelming._

Maybe that was it, but he can’t help it. He wants to wake up cuddling with someone, breakfasts in bed, a dog, and maybe marriage. Mingyu wants that forever and after; and okay, in his drunken stupor, he admits he probably hopes for too much too soon.

Mingyu leans back and stares up at the night sky. He squints—it was hard to see so many stars in Seoul. His grandmother’s home had a beautiful view of the night sky, and it was there she would tell him: _choose a star and wish upon it, the angel on that star will come to grant your wish._ Thinking about his grandmother made the tears well up in his eyes. Oh, how he misses home.

Out of nostalgia, Mingyu points at a faraway star, but he finally starts feeling the effects of overeating and intoxication. Putting his arm down to catch himself from falling, Mingyu slowly nods off, whispering under his breath, “I…wish…”

He doesn’t know how long he dozed off, but Mingyu awakes rudely by someone kicking his foot.

“Hey, wake up,” a voice calls. Mingyu blinks and looks up. Scoffing, Mingyu puts his head down to go back to sleep. He’s hallucinating, great. “Hey, don’t go back to sleep!”

Mingyu sighs and looks back at the lanky man, kneeling in front of him. He stares at the other’s knees coming out of the rips of his jeans and wonders if the other’s cold. At least the kneeling man is wearing a jacket as oversized as it was. Mingyu giggles and wonders how wonderful his imagination must be. The man in front of him is cute, well dressed—and has layers upon layers of smooth feathers in a set of _wings_?

“Oh great, he’s drunk,” the angel mutters, adjusting his hat. Mingyu never would have thought angels wore bucket hats, and it was pretty cute. Although plaid is a strange pattern for a bucket hat. “I would be the one to get a drunkard.”

“Who are you?” Mingyu manages to ask.

“You wished upon my star,” the angel explains slowly as one would do for a child or an intoxicated person. “And I’m supposed to grant it, but you fell asleep before finishing your wish.”

“Your star is pretty,” Mingyu says. The other’s white wings were glowing under the moonlight, and without thinking, Mingyu reaches out to touch it. The feathers are soft, and the other’s hands are large and warm as they yank Mingyu’s arm away.

“为什么总是我?” the angel groans. _Why is it always me?_ He stands up and looks down at Mingyu. “Make your wish.”

“I wish,” Mingyu says, eyelids slowly feeling heavy again. He thinks of his lonely apartment and cold bed. He thinks of the second mug no one has ever used. “I wish you would stay.”

“Granted.”

And Mingyu lets his eyes close. Just before succumbing to the familiar call of sleep, Mingyu feels a hint of regret. Too bad he never got the angel’s name, even if he were just a figment of Mingyu’s drunken imagination.

\---

His morning alarm is heartless, and after a good night out, it screeches in his ear. Mingyu groans and rolls towards the dresser to turn it off. Fumbling with his phone, Mingyu manages to slap the _sleep_ button.

Sighing in relief, Mingyu rolls back into his blankets and back into the arms that await him. He’s almost asleep again when it hits him— _the arms that await him?_ Mingyu suddenly jolts up, a mistake he realizes as the room spins a little. He clutches his head.

“Stop being dramatic and get back in bed,” the body attached to said arms says, voice thick with sleep.

Mingyu squints at the man. He’s pretty sure he didn’t go clubbing last night or even had an opportunity to pick up anyone at that old dingy barbeque place. He’s pretty sure Seokmin was the one who took him— _oh_ , he was in his bed and not on the steps of his apartment. Wait, how did he—?

“I can hear you thinking,” the man sighs. He sits up and in the morning light, Mingyu recognizes him. His angel from last night. “You were the one who asked me to stay.”

“I—uh, I, um, I’m sorry?” Mingyu croaks.

Oh no, did he just force an unsuspecting person to take care of him?

Oh no. The man’s clothes were different.

Oh no, did he throw up on—? Oh no, and he was cute too.

Oh.

“It was _your_ wish,” the man chuckles, tilting his head in amusement.

No. Leaning back in wonder, Mingyu jumps when his fingers touch something foreign on his bedsheets. Looking around, Mingyu realizes white feathers cover his whole bed. No way, Mingyu stares at his angel.

“You never specified for how long,” the man says. “So be good to me.”

“Huh?” Mingyu responds intelligently. “What?”

“You wanted me to stay because you’re lonely and single, no?” the man laughs, and Mingyu thinks he likes the sound even through his throbbing headache. “I’ll stay, but you better be good to me.”

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees with confusion.

“Hi, I’m Seo Myungho,” the man smiles.

“Kim Mingyu,” he introduces numbly. Oh, well, this wasn’t how—

“And I’ll be your boyfriend starting today,” Myungho declares, leaving Mingyu speechless.

—and this is how after twenty-seven years, Kim Mingyu finally lands an angel, er, boyfriend.

\---

_“I wish you would stay.”_

_“Granted,” Minghao says. This will be an easy one. The human never specified how long, so just out of the kindness of his heart, Minghao will send the drunken mortal into his apartment and be done._

_“I just…don’t want to be alone…anymore,” the human mutters in his sleep._

_Minghao pauses. He thinks of his isolated star, so far from the rest. Too far for human eyes to see, waiting and knowing no one will call on him. And something like sympathy stirs in his heart._

_“Hey Junhui,” Minghao calls into the open night. He knows the other is listening. “Can you let the Big Boss know I’m taking my vacation days?"_

_The winds caress him in question._

_“I’m taking all of them,” Minghao answers. He looks down at his human and smiles. “I have enough for the lifetime of a human, no?”_

\---

[not quite] The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS STARTED OFF KIND NORMAL. So the idea was that when you wish upon a star, the angel who lives on that star will grant the wish, but then suddenly it became an Oh My Goddess! au .____. Does anyone remember that series? Or am I just old? LOL 
> 
> *old croaky voice* I only know slayers, cowboy bebop and boruto’s dad. What’s this haikyuu all you young people speak of?
> 
> Anyways, lol, thought it would be cute to start off 31 days of gyuhao with a super cliché scenario! :D brings me back to the days that I wrote these types of fanfics on a daily basis *cough*middleschool*cough* am I self indulging, yes.


	3. Turning Time Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soulmate AU] Frozen physically at the age of 18, Xu Minghao has yet to meet his soulmate. It's been more than two thousand years.
> 
> (side pairs: haoseok, soonhoon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Where people age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soul mate so they can grow old together – reliquiaen (tumblr)

**Turning Time Pieces**

\---

Xu Minghao has looked eighteen since the Qin Dynasty. Time froze for him as it did not for many of his peers. He’s watched many emperors come to power and then lose it all. He’s lived through the rise of European imperialism and both World Wars.

People regarded him as a living legend, a historian of sorts; but, honestly, Minghao just felt like a lonely man—a lonely man who finally decided to reconnect with the modern world.

China in 2017 was fast-paced and so thankfully different than the famine ridden year of 1960. At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, Minghao fled the cities. He carried too much old customs, old culture, old habits and old ideas—he might as well have been the Fifth Old Thing. And, to be fair, he _was_ old.   

So when he steps off the train onto the Beijing North Railway Station, Minghao feels a little starry eyed. This is not the Beijing he remembered; and while he’s seen pictures on the internet, he’s amazed how seventy years changed things. He has lived through dynasties with very little change other than the monarchs. This—this is amazing and terrifying at the same time.

“徐长老,” a grey-haired man greets hesitantly, adjusting his glasses. Minghao smiles, nodding in acknowledgement. The man brightens up considerably. “感谢您同意和我们见面. 不好意思，我的学生有课. 没办法来接您.”   

_Elder Xu, thank you for agreeing to meet us. I’m sorry, my student has class. So he wasn’t able to come with me._

“没什么，年轻人对历史有兴趣挺好的,” Minghao says. He almost wants to laugh at the other’s surprise. What did he expect? Old traditional Chinese? He hasn’t spoken in such a way since the Ming dynasty. “要是有什么问题，尽管问。我会尽力回答.”

_Of course, it’s quite nice when young people are interested in history. If you have any questions, please ask. I will do my best to answer._

The man nods excitedly and quickly leads him outside. Ah, Minghao remembers the large square where people set up little camps waiting for their trains—and yes, that hasn’t changed. They get into a car and the man apologizes for the terrible traffic.

Minghao doesn’t really care. The slow traffic gives him time to look at this new Beijing, and for the first time in almost a thousand years, Minghao feels like a foreigner in his own country. Moments like these make him a little sad. The world has moved on without him as his body stayed frozen at eighteen. He wonders if his soulmate is  just as lonely, or maybe the other is lucky enough to have been born later. Maybe the 1800s or maybe the 1970s.

“啊，不好意思,” the man apologizes suddenly, turning to Minghao. The passing of years was apparent on his face, but his eyes were kind. Minghao could tell that the man had been very handsome in his youth. He was good at that kind of stuff, having watched so many people age ahead of him. “我是文俊辉，一个穷教授.”

 _Ah, I’m sorry. I’m Wen Junhui, a poor professor_.

“穷？能遇见你的知音是一种财,” Minghao says seriously. _Poor? To be able to meet your soulmate is a type of wealth._

“那不是我的意思!” _That’s not what I meant to imply!_

Minghao hides a smile and the smidge of jealousy at the professor’s graying hairs and eye wrinkles. To grow old with your soulmate. What a concept.

\---

The cheerful history professor had invited him to do a series of interviews— _China’s Captain America_ : _the Living Legend Returns to Modern Society._ Professor Wen tries to explain who Captain America is, and Minghao lets him struggle for a couple minutes.

“ _I understood that reference_ ,” Minghao says quietly in English and watches with increasing amusement as Junhui’s face displays various degrees of shock. “Just because I haven’t been in the large cities, doesn’t mean I don’t watch movies. The internet is amazing.”

“Well, I guess this will be less revolutionary than I thought,” Junhui mutters. He lays out the plan. Minghao will live with one of his students and acclimate himself to modern day Beijing. They would do weekly interviews to talk about his views on modern society and the concerns he has. The plan was just a semester. “One of my students really wanted to do this before he goes back to Korea. I think he was the one who got in contact with you first?”

“It was the first time I received snail mail in a long time,” Minghao laughs. He fiddles with the iPhone in his lap--the perks of having deep pockets and endless curiosity. “He seems like a fine kid though. It was his project so I’m just going with it. It’s not like a couple weeks will ruin my thousand year life plan.”

“I apologize if this question is insensitive,” Junhui says gently. He adjusts his glasses and peers at Minghao. “Have you never met your soulmate or…?”

A couple hundred years ago, Minghao would have been offended by this. How dare this stranger suggest he killed his soulmate to stay immune to time’s passing? But as the years, hundreds of years, passed, Minghao realized his case was very special. In fact, 97% of people meet their soulmates in the first fifty years. Almost everyone met their soulmates by a 100 years.

Minghao was the lucky 0.00000000000000001%, and he’s still never won a lottery.

“I’ve never met my soulmate,” Minghao shrugs. “I’ve looked like this for, oh man, when was the Qin Dynasty?”

“221 B.C.,” Junhui answers.

“Well, there you have it,” Minghao says, waving his arms around lazily. “I was alive before Jesus Christ was born.”

“But you’ve never met Jesus Christ,” Junhui says with a questioning look.

“No, I’ve never met Jesus Christ,” Minghao answers. It was actually kind of surprising how many time he’s been asked that. Unfortunately, he’s never left China. Okay, that was a lie, he’s been to North and South Korea long, long, _long_ before they became the countries they are today. But he keeps that to himself because no, he’s never smuggled across _the_ 38 th Parallel because it _hadn’t existed back then_.

“I’m so sorry Professor Wen! Class got held up and—”

Minghao flinches slightly at the loud crash outside the office door. It sounded like someone tripped and face planted into the floor. There’s a moment of silence before someone groans loudly.

“And that’s my student,” Junhui smiles cheerfully. “Kim Mingyu. He’s our Korean transfer student, but his Chinese is alright! You’ll be living with him!”

The door creaks open and a sheepish looking young man stands outside, holding his nose.

“你好，我是金珉奎,” he introduces himself with a ninety-degree bow. Minghao stares as the young man stands up straight. Woah, he’s tall. If this was how tall he was going to be at eighteen, then Minghao cannot imagine how much taller this kid will get once he met his soulmate. “我应该怎么称呼您？” _Hello, I’m Kim Mingyu_ . _How should I address you?_

“明浩就行了,” Minghao says. “千万不要叫我爷爷或太祖宗.” _Minghao’s fine. Please don’t call me grandfather or great ancestor._

“You look too handsome to be called—” Mingyu laughs but quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. It’s Minghao’s turn to laugh. This one will age well, Minghao decides arbitrarily. His soulmate will be a lucky one.

\---

Minghao is too romantic to consider settling down with someone who isn’t his soulmate. So even though Mingyu manages to stumble into his heart in that ever so clumsy way, Minghao takes it upon himself to end it.

“You have to find your soulmate,” Minghao says resolutely. He sounds a lot more confident than he feels, half naked and sitting on Mingyu’s lap.

Their shared dorm room was warm even with the cooling breeze of the late afternoon, and it probably didn’t help that both of them were squished together on Mingyu’s bed. The other bed was clean and orderly and untouched, even by the retreating light.  

Through the open window, the sunlight crawls across the walls, leaving behind a dark yellow shade. In the fading daylight, Minghao pretends that he can’t see Mingyu’s expression—the slight furrow of his brow, the downward dip of his chin and the offended scrunch of his nose. The shadows completely cover Mingyu’s face, but instead of shrouding him in darkness, they merely cast a golden haze on his skin like a sepia toned memory—or maybe more like a dream?

Maybe all of this was a dream. A dream that felt too real—their clothes folded together in the closet, their power cords tangled together in a hopeless mess, and their keys hung together on the same hook because it didn’t _matter_. They would both come home to this little room—but dreams end. Minghao sees the end right in front of them, and he feels almost guilty stringing Mingyu along.

“But Hao, I—” _don’t care_.

Minghao quiets him with a kiss. It lingers like a silent goodbye. The semester is  almost over and Mingyu has a plane ticket back to Korea sitting on his desk.

“You don’t care now, but you will,” Minghao whispers. He thinks about a sweet boy who loved him once upon a time. Once upon a time, he thought it may be a blessing to live forever with someone he loved. And then the happily ever after when that sweet boy found his soulmate— _I’m sorry Myungho, I do love you but I—_ but he hasn’t thought about Seokmin for a long time now.

“It’ll be worth it Mingyu. Just wait.”

His biological clock had already started ticking again, but Minghao wouldn’t know that. Four months is  too short for Minghao to have noticed any change. And he’s been alive for too long to actually pay attention to the little twinges of his heart.

False alarms every time.

\---

“Mingyu, have you _grown_?”

“What?” Mingyu looks up in surprise. Jihoon squints at him and backs him into the wall of their shared apartment.

“Stand straight,” Jihoon orders. “Soonyoung, ruler.”

Soonyoung is quick to grab the measuring tape, a ruler and a chair. Sitting lazily on the couch, Wonwoo mutters something that sounds like _whipped_ and whines loudly when Soonyoung kicks his foot on his way. Jihoon doesn’t even reprimand his boyfriend for the chair— _I’m not that short_ , but rather scrambles to press the ruler flat on Mingyu’s head.

“How tall were you last time you were measured?” Jihoon asks. Mingyu hears the measuring tape unroll and hit his shoulder on the way down.

“180? 181?” Mingyu shrugs, slouching against the wall. He straightens up quickly at Jihoon’s annoyed look. “I’ve been this height for the past six years, hyung! And I haven’t met anyone _new_ since!”

“You went to China for three years,” Wonwoo says, flipping through a magazine.

“Yeah, and I went to a tiny school in the sixth ring of Beijing where I knew everyone and everyone knew me since day three,” Mingyu scoffs. He crosses his arms like a petulant child but doesn’t dare move otherwise.

“Didn’t you meet China’s Living Legend or something?” Soonyoung asks, hovering where Jihoon stood with his hands out ready to catch the other at any sign of wobbling. “Woah, what if you’re his _soulmate_? It would be like that one drama, Goblin!”

“If Mingyu was his soulmate, he would be responsible for the end of China’s last record keeper,” Wonwoo snorts unattractively. He folds the corner of a page and continues flipping through. “He’ll have to record everything the Living Legend has ever seen to preserve history.”

“Well good thing Mingyu’s already done some of that already,” Jihoon says quietly. It was weird to look at Jihoon at eye level. At any other point of time, it would have been a little scary, but Jihoon looks so proud. “182. You’re definitely growing.”

“What?” Mingyu asks blankly.

“I measured you five times to be sure,” Jihoon says, rolling the tape measure and jumping off the chair. “Congratulations. You met your soulmate.”

Mingyu prays this isn’t a false alarm. He doesn’t know if he could handle it if Jihoon was wrong. He thinks of Minghao and wonders how reckless it would be to fly back to China in the morning.

\---

(Apparently Minghao is more reckless. He appears on Mingyu’s doorstep that night.

“I have a white hair.”

“I grew taller.”

And somehow, both statements sound just like _I love you_.)

\---

The End-ish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so this should have been a long fic w/ gyuhao getting to know each other and falling in love and shit, but I wrote too much for the intro LOL I’m very wordy if you guys couldn’t tell already LOL okay I had too much fun with two thousand year old Minghao. (“so…have you met jesus” “omfg kim mingyu if I had a yuan for every person who asked me this, I’d be a billionaire in usd”) 
> 
> Anyways LOL happy ending! Woot! (angry history nerd Wonwoo tho: Kim Mingyu you better take responsibility and omfg if you don’t record all of China’s history I’m going to kill you and—) 
> 
> Plot holes/explanations:  
> 1) Minghao knows Korean  
> * Minghao was with Seokmin for like twenty years during the early Joseon dynasty which is where he learned Korean at first, but once Seokmin found his soulmate, Minghao didn’t want to stay and returned to China  
> * Mingyu learns this unfortunate truth when they bicker one day and he basically curses at Minghao in Korean, thinking the other didn’t understand—oh man, did Minghao go at him (its supposed to be funny ‘cause Minghao still speaks like they did in the Joseon dynasty ‘cause he’s never used Korean since)  
> 2) Four Old: old customs, old culture, old habits and old ideas  
> * During the Cultural Revolution in China, there was a campaign to get rid the Four Old ‘cause they were seen as harmful to the working people ← I’m not gonna get into too much of the actual history/politics ‘cause politics…LOL maybe one day  
> * BUT BASICALLY the idea was that having lived 2000 years, hao would be considered a 5th Old ‘cause he’s literally the walking embodiment of all old things in China


	4. The Little Merman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Mermaid AU] Minghao is a sea witch. Mingyu is a merman prince.

**The Little Merman**

\---

_ Wish I could be... _

\---

“Okay, and why should I help you?” Minghao asks deadpan, propelling past his guest with a small burst of water. He uses a long, blue ringed tentacle to swipe a bottle off his shelf and dumps the content into his pot. Minghao is usually more polite, but having heard the same story for the fifteenth time in a week was enough for anyone to lose patience and want to swim off into the deep side.

“Have you not been listening?” the merman groans. His sparkling blue tail fin flaps against the coral walls in frustration.

Minghao watches his shelves warily. His tentacles automatically shoot up to hold a couple bottles of his more expensive ingredients. The merman is strong, and the last thing Minghao wants is for the other to knock down his bottles or worse, knock a hole in the wall—which would not be a first. In the four years they’ve been friends, Minghao could point at several stains and patched up spots in his workshop.

“Please!”

“Prince Kim Mingyu of the Seven Seas,” Minghao mocks with a formal bow. His eight tentacles splay out beneath him like an eight-legged starfish. “I am but a humble sea witch who has no time to entertain royal delusions of love at first sight.”

“The land prince definitely saw me,” Mingyu huffs, crossing his arms in front of him defensively. “And I know that look when I see it. It’s love.”

“I’m sure,” Minghao agrees with a twirl of his tentacles. He returns to his bubbling concoction with an eye roll. The coral reefs were dying, and here was their royal highness ready to skip off all duties for a two-legged human.

“Myungho, please!” Mingyu whines, swimming closer with a strong flex of his tail. He grabs onto Minghao’s arm and swings it. “Help me walk on land. I need legs. You can do it! I know sea witches know how!”

“I said no,” Minghao says resolutely. His tentacles carefully pry the merman’s hands, and the tendrils wave towards the door. “Go home Kim Mingyu.”

“Not until you give me legs,” Mingyu huffs, floating in the middle of Minghao’s workshop. 

Minghao turns his back to the prince and continues his work. He’s not quite paying attention to what his tentacles are doing—Minghao has made liquid lights since he could swim against the sea currents. No, instead Minghao is looking at Mingyu through a small mirror he found in a shipwreck. 

He watches with amusement as the blue scaled merman wobbles in his vertical orientation. Merpeople were not meant to stay upright. By nature, they swam horizontally just like the fish they took after, but Mingyu was stubborn. His poor tail fin flutters against the seafloor and kicks against the sand, trying to adjust to the slightest currents.

Minghao wonders how long the prince could continue like that, and he almost laughs at the intense look of concentration on Mingyu’s face. The merman’s entire face is scrunched up around his nose. Minghao almost wants to swim over and smooth those wrinkles until Mingyu’s normally handsome features reemerged.

The octopoda flushes and all his tentacles turn a brilliant shade of red. Minghao shakes his head and reaches down to the seafloor, willing his body to take on its sandy color. Yes, he thought the merman prince was attractive—or as attractive as a fish could be, but no, Minghao did  _ not _ fancy him. A lone red tentacle pokes him and Minghao pushes it away with his hand. Nope, not one bit. 

“Why won’t you help me?” Mingyu complains. “Is it expensive? Does it take a long time? Myungho!”

“Why are you so obsessed with this land prince?” Minghao asks in exasperation, turning towards Mingyu.

“I—I saved him once when he fell overboard,” Mingyu admits quietly. The sea witch frowns. Unless there was a natural disaster, merpeople were not allowed to save humans—it was to protect the secret of their existence. “And I would like to see him again.”

“See him or kiss him?” Minghao asks. He tries to smirk, but his lips quivers downward. He turns away again. “You should know that splitting your tail into legs comes at a price.” 

“So—so you’ll do it?” 

“The price is what you are most proud of,” Minghao continues. He already knows, but he asks anyways. “So what is that for you?” 

“My grace and agility in the water,” Mingyu answers. 

And Minghao agrees. Mingyu is a beautiful swimmer. He’s only ever seen Mingyu swim above him—a glittering blue shadow gliding along with the sunlit waters of the sea behind him. Even thinking about it made his heart ache. 

But this was how it should be. Sea witches like him stayed on the sea floors, gazing up at the glittering waves. Sea witches like him helped mermen princes and mermaid princesses get their land bound loves. 

“You’re going to be a terribly clumsy human,” Minghao forces a laugh. 

Sea witches like Minghao should not hope princes like Mingyu would notice them instead.

\---

_...Part of your world. _

\---

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159271639@N03/36797976503/in/photostream/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’m terrible. So uh, YOU CAN DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS :D Does Mingyu and dear land prince fall in love? Or does shit happen and Minghao turns into a human himself to save his dear merman prince? WHO KNOWS?
> 
> (spoiler: this is modern day, it wasn’t a land prince, and just like how not all sea witches are good, neither are all humans.)
> 
> (another spoiler: I might actually write a longer thing for this)


	5. 1004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Band Fic] Jeonghan enjoys his birthday but Mingyu is acting suspiciously.

**1004**  

\---

The dorms are oddly quiet for once.

The late morning sunlight glows around closed curtains, and the soft hum of various electronics whirls in the background. There’s something oddly charming about still being in bed while the others are out and about.

Yoon Jeonghan smiles contently and burrows further into his blankets. This was how he wanted to spend his birthday—comfy and loved.

Their early morning practice dissolved into weird giggles and loudly yelled out birthday wishes. Jeonghan spent most of that time inviting the other members into his vlive and then shoving them out when he deemed them too noisy.

They gave Jeonghan first dibs on the shower and only complained twice when Jeonghan spent an extra ten minutes conditioning his hair— _hyung, you don’t have long hair anymore, yah, Yoon Jeonghan don’t abuse—!_ And when everyone retired for the night, Jeonghan convinced Seungcheol to tuck him in.

“You’re twenty-three, not three,” Seungcheol scoffed with a roll of his eyes but tucked the other in anyways, making sure the blanket fit snug under his chin.

While the kids managed to wake him up with their morning routines, Jeonghan appreciated their efforts to be quiet. He thinks that a couple of them went to the company, a couple of them out shopping, and all of them were giving him space to sleep in.

He rolls over in his covers, wrapping into a large blanket burrito. He will get up eventually, maybe call Seokmin or Seungcheol to eat lunch with him, and then maybe pester Chan or Soonyoung to buy him dessert. Reaching out of his enclosure, Jeonghan fumbles for his phone and pulls on it hard enough to disconnect it from the charger.

 _11:49_ _am_. Ah, it’s almost time to get up.

Jeonghan stretches and yawns, kicking at his blankets. He sits up and stares blankly at his phone. He taps on the lock screen and unlocks his phone with a swipe of his finger. Jeonghan pays no mind to the sound of the front door clicking open, but he flinches at the sudden outburst beyond the cracked open bedroom door.  

“Kim Mingyu! You almost dropped it!”

“But I didn’t! Don’t nag me!”

“You totally almost dropped it!”

“But I _didn’t_!”

Jeonghan leans over and tries to see through the crack in the door. He can’t see anything but he hears Minghao and Mingyu arguing in the kitchen.

“Just leave it on the table!”

“I’ll put it wherever I want.”

“Kim Mingyu, just go put away your own things and leave it on the table!”

“Why are you like this to me—oh, hyung, you’re awake,” Mingyu squeaks. The younger holds open the door with a too wide smile and stiff shoulders. Mingyu stomps into their shared room and suddenly starts talking a lot louder. “You are awake Jeonghan-hyung!”

“Well I definitely am now,” Jeonghan mumbles. He kicks the blankets again and one leg comes free. He’ll get the other leg later. “Where did you and Myungho go?”

“We went shopping,” Mingyu says, and his voice breaks in the middle. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room and then jolts like he remembered his original task. Mingyu puts down the shopping bags next to his bed and walks back to the door to close it. “We just went shopping. Uh, Myungho might yell at me again and I really hate it when he nags me for no reason. I didn’t drop anything.”

“What did you guys buy?” Jeonghan asks noncommittally. From the small size of the bags, Jeonghan guesses accessories, but Mingyu was usually very excited to share his new haul. Even without asking, Mingyu would usually just start talking.

“Uh, we—uh, we got,” Mingyu stutters, and Jeonghan looks up from his phone suspiciously. Mingyu is a terrible liar. “Um, well, we went to the mall.”

“And what did you buy at the mall?” Jeonghan question slowly. He lowers his phone to observe Mingyu. The younger fidgets and stares at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“We bought—um,” Mingyu starts but stops. He opens his mouth again and closes it.

“Did you and Myungho buy couple items or something?” Jeonghan asks teasingly.

He’s only half joking. Mingyu and Minghao actually bought a lot of matching clothes and accessories, but they tried to avoid obvious couple items. They would rather buy different items from the same line and wear them at the same time. Although, they did have those rings—

“We—we bought couple rings!” Mingyu shouts right as Minghao opens the door— _Mingyu, you took my bags too_. Jeonghan catches Minghao’s expression morph from startled to confused to complete betrayal.

Jeonghan bursts out laughing as Minghao stalks up to Mingyu and smacks him on the shoulder. Mingyu turns around looking just as betrayed— _why are you hitting me_. Minghao merely shoves him with wide eyes and flared nostrils— _you know why!_

“I thought—oh dear, you guys already have couple rings,” Jeonghan laughs. “The red and green ones.”

Mingyu and Minghao seem to pride themselves in being subtle with the fans. They might show off a teasing selfie or two and maybe a collaborative accessory— _we don’t want to be too obvious_ , Mingyu said with his arms around Minghao’s waist. At the time, everyone in the room rolled their eyes. Even their manager snorted, muttering something about kids and nonexistent subtly.

Jeonghan watches in amusement as the two speak to each other in eye twitches, nose scrunches and short grunts. They finally seem to agree on something, turning to Jeonghan slowly.

“We—we bought actual couple rings,” Minghao says hesitantly. “They’re the same brand—”

“Same design,” Mingyu interjects.

“—same color,” Minghao continues.

“Even same size,” Mingyu comments. He shrinks when Minghao turns to him with a glare.

“—so _basically_ ,” Minghao says, dragging out the word. “We got real couple rings.”

“Do you want to see them?” Mingyu asks excitedly. Before Jeonghan could even answer, he’s already digging through their shopping bags and pulling out a set of ring boxes. “They’re so nice!”

“Mingyu!” Minghao whines. He collapses next to Jeonghan’s bed in an angry huff. “Can’t we keep a secret around here?”

“Well you already told me,” Jeonghan shrugs. “And the answer to that question, objectively, is no.”

“Here, hyung,” Mingyu says excitedly, scrambling over to the bed. Kneeling next to Minghao, he pops the tops off the boxes and shoves the opened boxes into Jeonghan’s lap. “Aren’t they nice?”

Jeonghan looks blankly at the simple bands—both silver with multiple little circles engraved into the sides. He squints, they weren’t just circles. They looked like the head of a slotted ended screw.

“These are Cartier knock offs,” Jeonghan states, holding up both boxes closer to eye level. If he remembers right, Cartier was known for their wedding bands. “You two got _Cartier_ knock off couple rings?!”

“I _told_ you he’d be able to tell!” Minghao hisses, elbowing the other. “I told you this was a bad idea! Why did you show him?”

“It’s more suspicious if we don’t show him!” Mingyu argues, pushing Minghao away with his shoulder. “Real couple rings could also mean like wedding rings!”

“ _Wedding_ —” Minghao chokes. “Could you think before you speak?”

“So when’s the wedding?” Jeonghan asks with a smirk. “Or did you two elope without telling us?”

“Hyung!” Minghao whines, falling face first into Jeonghan’s bed sheets.

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan amends, reaching over to pat Minghao’s hair. “Who proposed first?”

Minghao shifts so he could give Jeonghan a half-faced pout. Jeonghan merely flattens the other’s hair over Minghao’s visible eye. The younger boy giggles and tries to swat away the offending hand. They continue, making it into a little game, and Minghao is obviously winning.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeonghan says with his fingers wiggling threateningly. Minghao scrunches his nose and lets Jeonghan mess with his hair. The birthday boy casts a curious glance at Mingyu. The other is strangely quiet.

“If—If we last that long,” Mingyu says loudly, staring down at his clenched fists. Jeonghan stops and Minghao sits back up in confusion. Mingyu takes a deep breath and returns Minghao’s gaze. “If we last that long, I—I hope that I’m the one who proposes.”

Jeonghan slowly leans back into his bed. He knows when to give the younger ones space, and from the oddly serious mood that settled in the room, Jeonghan feels like he’s intruding on an intimate moment.

“You idiot,” Minghao scoffs. His words are scathing, but his eyes gaze at Mingyu so adoringly. Even the little closed fist punch seems a little too fond. “I’d be the one. If I were to wait for you, there would be no proposal.”

“What—?” Mingyu huffs with his mouth open in disbelief, and the moment is over. “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I have a lot of confidence in you right now,” Minghao laughs. He gets up and slaps Mingyu on the back. Hard. Minghao walks towards the door and turns back to point at Mingyu accusingly. “You had one job, Kim Mingyu.”

“If this is about the rings—” Mingyu starts, scrambling up, and follows Minghao out the door.

Jeonghan stares at the open door and then down to the two ring boxes in his hands. Well, he supposes he could accept that tidbit of teasing material as a birthday present. Jeonghan finally kicks his other leg free and crosses the room to Mingyu’s bed.

He almost wants to leave them open on Mingyu’s bed for the rest of their roommates to see, but Jeonghan does care for Mingyu. Plus, Minghao could get quite vengeful when he wanted to. So like a good older brother, Jeonghan finds the box covers, closes the ring boxes and sets them into the bag he saw Mingyu pull them out from.

Jeonghan goes back to his bed to grab his phone when he sees a series of kakaotalk messages pop up on his lock-screen.

_Soonie-youngie_

_Hey, did you guys get the cake?_

_Channie <3_

_Hyung! This is the group chat!!!_

_Soonie-youngie_

_He’s probably still asleep!!_

_Wonwon_

_Great going. We sneaked around for nothing._

_Cheollie_

_I gave you all one job!!!!!!_

Jeonghan chuckles as the messages keep coming up like they were trying to bury the evidence. He opens the kakaotalk chat and leaves the messages on _read_. Jeonghan tosses his phone back on the bed and walks out of the room to freshen up.

He’ll let them panic.

(But Jeonghan still acts completely surprised at the cake he’s already seen in the refrigerator.)

(Years later, Jeonghan also acts completely surprised when Minghao and Mingyu start wearing their matching Cartier couple rings.

Although, he may or may not have made some good money off of a couple bets.)

\---

~~#~~ **AngelJeonghanDay**

~~#~~ **윤정한_생일에_기분좋은_캐럿들**

**\---**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Yoon Jeonghan~ LOL I know they’re in the Philippines rn but I forgot at 3am when I started writing this. So uh yeah, we’re just not gonna focus on important details :D 
> 
> Couple rings! The specific rings I was thinking about where the Cartier LOVE rings? Those things are expensive and a hefty price for peeps who aren’t sure where their relationship is going—so knocks offs! But years later, do they have real Cartier LOVE rings? The answer in this fic, objectively, is yes. LOL 
> 
> (And Cartier means a lot to me for reasons lol so that’s why I chose them)


	6. My Prince, Kim Mingyu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Modern Royalty] Minghao wakes up to a hangover and the Prince of the Republic of Korea.

**My Prince, Kim Mingyu**

\---

Minghao opens his eyes and peers into the dimly lit room— _ack_ , it hurts.

He closes them again and rolls away from the light source. It feels like the devil was throwing a iron ball against his skull, and there is nothing he could do to get away from it.   

Last night, he had been undercover security for the prince’s birthday party. In the guise of a party goer, Minghao patrolled and strolled around, keeping a loose eye on the birthday boy. He thought he kept his alcohol consumption to a minimum, but something must have been spiked.

Minghao groans. What did he expect from a party of twenty-something-year-olds? His supervisor, Lee Jihoon, will kill him later, but if the older man let him wander off with someone for the night, then everything must have been well at the party.

Where was he anyways?

Minghao looks around the unfamiliar bedroom—oh shit, the not-so unfamiliar bedroom to be more exact. Oh god, this was the _prince’s_ bedroom. He’s seen it in pictures far too many times at security briefings. He had no recollection of how he got there. All he knew was that his bare naked ass was defiling the prince's silk sheets.

“ _Shit_ ,” Minghao groans.

“You’re up.”

Minghao looks to the voice in dread. The same face that was plastered on every billboard and recognized by every citizen in South Korea is currently gazing at him fondly. Kim Mingyu, the Crowned Prince of the Republic of Korea, stands casually at the doorway in loose pajamas and an _apron_.

“I made breakfast,” Kim Mingyu offers with a toothy smile. “If your head hurts, I have pain killers and hangover soup.”

“What happened last night?” Minghao asks slowly. God, please don’t tell him that they—

“Well, you could say we got a little handsy,” the prince says with a sly wink. Minghao groans in pain from  the consequences of his actions that weigh heavily on his shoulders rather than the pain pulsing in his head. Mistaking Minghao’s pain for the latter, Mingyu fumbles apologetically. “Oh, uh, let me go get the pain killers.”

Minghao buries his face in his hands and falls back onto the bed. The impact merely makes his headache worse. _Suffer_ , he thinks to himself. _You deserve it_.

“Sorry, was I too loud?” Mingyu whispers. Minghao peeks through his fingers and sees a pair of concerned eyes. “I brought some ibuprofen, but I think you should eat a little first before taking it.”

For a one night stand, the prince is sure considerate, and Minghao doesn’t want to think of how sweet the other was. Mingyu runs his fingers through Minghao’s hair and presses a gentle kiss against his temple.  Minghao freezes in shock—his brows furrow and his lips press into a thin line. It takes him a moment to process what happened. When he does, it hits Minghao all at once, and a bright red flush raises from his neck, coloring his cheeks and ears.

“I think I want to keep you,” Mingyu smiles. “Will you stay, Seo Myungho?”

“Uh—” Minghao sputters, grasping for words he doesn’t have.

“Breakfast first okay?” the prince directs. He uses his best commanding voice. “The Crowned Prince orders that breakfast be eaten before any formal considerations are negotiated.”

“My prince—”

“Mingyu is fine,” the prince laughs quietly. He presses another kiss against Minghao’s temple before walking back towards the door. “After all, that was all you could say last night.”

 _Mingyu, fuck, Mingyu, Mingyu, please, Mingyu, touch m—_ his face burns in embarrassment. Minghao wants to cry.

Xu Minghao is an undercover guard for the Crowned Prince, but soon he’ll be unemployed. It’s only a matter of time.

Jihoon is going to _kill_ him.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated, so I wrote this a while ago but only posted it on tumblr LOL 
> 
> Mingyu only seems suave ‘cause Minghao’s suffering from a hangover. Those shojou sparkles disappear quite quickly after living with the big kid for a while. Jihoon doesn’t kill him and instead, “mingyu doesn’t have long relationships, might make our work easier if you just went along with it for the time being, and from the sounds of ah well last night...you aren’t totally against the idea.” 
> 
> note: thank you jess for the AMAZING line >:)


	7. (Not Really) Baywatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Lifeguard AU] Mingyu’s not a lifeguard (not that Minghao knows), and he doesn't need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (not that Minghao knows).

**(Not Really) Baywatch**

\---

It’s a busy day at the beach.

People are trying to get a last taste of summer before the autumn weather sets in or before summer vacation ends. The elementary children are busy building their sandcastles, the high school kids are busy pretending they’re too cool to play in the sand, and the college students are busy burying each other in the sand—next to the shoreline.

Mingyu squints—oh, they’re from his university. He recognizes the fraternity letters on their jackets, but he doesn’t recognize any of the guys.

“Hyung, I swear, if you leave me here—!”

“I would never do that Channie!”

“Soonyoung-hyung, you don’t have a very good track record.”

“Myungho, can you stop learning Korean?”

Mingyu eyes his college peers with a mixture of worry and jealousy. He’s worried because well, a wave is eventually going to come up high enough to drown one of them, and he’s jealous because, it looks and sounds like a lot of fun. But then again, anything is more fun than what he is  currently doing.

Mingyu sits in the sand next to the lifeguard tower with the rescue float in hand, waiting for the guy who’s supposed to take the next shift. _That_ guy is late, and if Mingyu needs to pretend to be a lifeguard and perform mouth-to-mouth on one of those college kids—well, a couple of them are pretty cute. _Ack_ , Mingyu shakes his head.

You see, Mingyu’s isn’t actually a lifeguard.

No, his best friend’s boyfriend is actually the lifeguard. And Mingyu should have trusted his suspicions when Wonwoo suddenly wanted to go out—“We should go to the beach once before university starts again!” Wonwoo, the hermit, had said. Something Wonwoo the hermit would never say without an ulterior motive.

At least Wonwoo’s boyfriend, a nice Chinese guy named Junhui, had the decency to hesitate and question whether this was appropriate— _uh, the next lifeguard should be here in ten minutes, call me if anything happens_! Wonwoo, on the other hand, just thanked Mingyu for being a bro and dragged Junhui away without a backward glance.

It’s been a good thirty minutes since the two disappeared, and no one’s shown up.

He doesn’t have Junhui’s number, and Mingyu feels no inclination to call Wonwoo. Knowing his friend, Wonwoo would just ignore the call and continue dicking around, quite literally.

Mingyu leans back into the wooden post and smacks the rescue float against the sand in boredom. He needs a new best friend. Wonwoo could go choke on a di— _nope_ , not going there, Mingyu scolds himself. There is a high possibility _that_ is actually happening so nope, he did not need the mental image. Thank you very much!

Trying to amuse himself, Mingyu buries his feet into the sand and wiggles his toes until they’re visible again. He does this again and again and again—Mingyu sighs and furiously digs his feet into sand until the sand pools around his shins. He leans his forehead against his propped up knees and tries to remember the good times he’s had with Wonwoo.

They’re best friends for a reason, they’re best friends for a reason, they’re best friends for a very vague and distant reason—

“Hey! Mr. Lifeguard!”

At first, Mingyu doesn’t respond, still wondering why he and Wonwoo are friends, but then he jolts up when someone manages to step on his toes through the sand. Mingyu looks up with a complaint on the tip of his tongue, but it dies quickly.

Oh— _hello_ good lookin.

One of the frat boys stands in front of him, breathing a little hard and pointing at the sea. Mingyu snaps his wide-open jaw shut. From the distance, the guy just looked really skinny in his large fraternity jacket, but without it and up close, Mingyu realizes this is what people refer to as _lean muscle_.

“Hey, so basically, my friend got stung by something in the waters and went under and hasn’t come back up and—”

The other didn’t have defined six pack abs, but there is a shadow of it and those muscles flex with every breath. Mingyu tears his eyes away to look up, but the other’s surprisingly muscular arms distract him. Why didn’t this guy take off his jacket earlier? At least then, Mingyu would have had eye candy to distract him from this unrelenting boredom.

“— _are you listening to me?!_ ”

Mingyu’s head snaps up to meet the other’s furious gaze. Oh no, _his face_. His eyes are narrowed with annoyance and his button nose scrunches cutely. Mingyu’s never had a thing for protruding ears, but he thinks he does now. He’s not sure exactly what the other said, but it seems like someone fell into the water?

“Are you going to do your job or do I need to?”

“Uh no, I—uh, yeah!” Mingyu responds intelligently. Forgetting he dug himself into the sand, he trips trying to get up. Managing to free himself from his handmade—or rather foot-made trap, Mingyu blindly grabs the rescue float and runs after the other.

“Over there!” the cute guy points into the waters.

Mingyu squints and he thinks he sees someone splashing. He slings the strap of the rescue float over his shoulder and runs towards the waves. The water is already halfway up his waist when Mingyu realizes that he’s not actually a lifeguard. He may have watched over kiddy pools back in highschool, but he’s never tried to rescue anyone in the ocean.

 _Well, it’s too late to be turning back_ , Mingyu shrugs mentally, already swimming further out with a wobbly front stroke. He considers himself to be a decent swimmer, and the ocean waves lap gently against him. Mingyu worries more about trying to carry and extra person’s weight. He’s never really used a rescue float and he drags it uselessly behind him.

“No, wait! Stop!”

Mingyu thinks he hears someone yelling at a distance, but he’s almost to the source of the splashing. He kicks a little harder and tries to use his long arms to propel himself— _what the fuck?_ One moment, he’s almost at the source of the splashing and the next, he’s a lot farther out than he wanted to be.

Turning, Mingyu struggles to swim against the current, but the rush of water is too strong. Flailing, he chokes on some water in his panic, and it merely induces more panic. His leg muscles burn and his arms are tired, and it’s getting harder to keep his head above water, and oh god, is this how he’s going to die?

“Hey! Stop!”

Mingyu panics even more when he feels something grabs his arm.

“Hey! Hey! Relax, I got you,” a voice says, but Mingyu finds it very hard to stop kicking. If he stops, he’ll go under and die. “I’m not going to let you drown. I want to help, but I need you to _calm down_.”

“I’m not going to—?” Mingyu asks, still choking from the salt water.

“I won’t let you drown,” the voice says more resolutely. Mingyu tries to calm down and almost starts splashing again when he feels his arm being pulled. “I’m just getting you the float, okay? You’ll have the float to support you. You’ll be okay.”

Mingyu feels the flotation device slip underneath his arms and someone’s pulling them forward, away from the beach. Exhausted, Mingyu tries to say something, but it just comes out in gurgles.

“You got caught in a rip current,” his savior explains, grunting in exertion. “It basically pulls you out to sea faster and it’s really hard to swim against.”

Their voice sounds so familiar and even the back of their head looks familiar, especially those ears. Mingyu blinks blearily, and it takes a moment for his water-clogged brain to realize who his savior is. Oh, it’s the cute guy. Well, there goes the first impression.

“I’m going to start pulling us sideways okay? We have to swim sideways out of it. I’m changing direction okay?” the cute guy asks, tugging on the float. They turn ninety degrees and slowly make their way out. Mingyu struggles to keep his face up, but he’s just so tired.

He’s not sure how long it took to get back to the beach, but at this point, Mingyu’s exhausted. He just survived a near death experience. Mingyu lies on the wet sand with his eyes closed and wonders whether this first impression was salvageable.

“Did you not get trained before they sent you out?”

Lying lifelessly on his back, Mingyu keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t respond. What to say? He isn’t a lifeguard? He nearly died so his best friend could have time with his boyfriend? Wonwoo owes him a _lot_.

“Hey, are you alright? Hey! Please be conscious! Hey, you! Oh my gosh, I’m not even on duty!”

At first, Mingyu doesn’t respond to the shakes and the moderate slaps against his arm because he’s embarrassed.

“Please be breathing! I’ve never done CPR on an actual person!”

 _Oh_. CPR as in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? Mingyu takes a quiet breath and holds it.

“Shit, he’s not breathing! He’s not responding!”

Mingyu takes another quiet breath while the other’s muttering to himself.

“Pinch nose shut, open mouth, make seal around mouth, okay I think I remember,” the other rambles. Mingyu tries his best not to flinch when the cute guy pinches his nose with excess force. “You got trained, you can do this.”

“ _What happened?_ ”

“Jun-hyung!” the cute guy exclaims. They start talking in some foreign language, and Mingyu resists furrowing his brow. Jun-hyung, as in—?

Someone pinches his nose and tilts his mouth open again. Mingyu opens his eyes to see the looming face of Wonwoo’s boyfriend. He tries to say something but he’s half a breath too late. Junhui seals his lips around Mingyu’s and breathes into Mingyu’s mouth.

“Asfhghadf?!” Mingyu exclaims, but it comes out all muffled. Sitting up suddenly, he shoves Junhui away with a little more force than was necessary. The lifeguard stumbles backwards into the sand, landing on his butt. “ _I don’t know where your mouth has been!_ ”

It takes a quiet moment for everyone to register what was said. When it hits, Junhui flushes a brilliant red and the cute guy doubles over in laughter. Still breathing heavily, Mingyu spots Wonwoo just a little beyond the lifeguard. His friend’s expression goes from offended to wicked.

“I could tell you,” Wonwoo smirks, sauntering up to Mingyu and poking his back with a sandy foot. “But I think you’d rather not know.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re okay,” Junhui mumbles, keeping his head down. “Rip currents can be a little scary, and I’m glad that Myungho was here. I’ll have to talk to the supervisor about our other guy. He’s skipped two shifts this week alone.”

“Myungho?” Mingyu repeats. The cute guy is still flushed and giggling, but he glances over at the sound of his name. Myungho pushes back his wet hair, and at the sight, Mingyu stumbles on his words. “Uh, Myu—Myungho-ssi, thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” Myungho says, offering a hand. Mingyu takes it and he’s a little surprised at how easily the other pulls him up. “Let’s just never do this again.”

“Deal,” Mingyu nods. He wobbles a little on his feet, and Myungho is quick to grab him. Mingyu feels a sense of deja vu, but this time he’s not scared.

“Uh—”

“Uh—”

Looking up, they both start and stop at the same time. Mingyu looks away quickly. He didn’t expect the eye contact.

“No, uh, you first—”

“Please you—”

Hesitantly, Mingyu looks up into Myungho’s eyes, and Myungho stares back, a little startled and maybe a little embarrassed. Myungho lets go of his arm and scratches his head nervously.

“I’m fine, if that’s what you were going to ask,” Mingyu states in the most reassuring manner he could muster.

“That’s good,” Myungho nods. He fiddles with his earring, and Mingyu finally notices the multiple piercings. Oh great, he has a thing for multiple piercings now. “Well, I’m sure you’re tired and probably hungry. Um, so maybe, would you, uh?”

“I would love lunch if that’s what you’re asking,” Mingyu blurts out, and he’s almost horrified at his own mouth. Good going, Kim Mingyu, what if the other was just going to suggest resting or something nice and polite like that?

“Great!” Myungho exclaims loudly. He looks a little mortified but pleased. “Let’s, um, let’s go then?”

“Maybe we should go to the first aid station?” Junhui offers.

“I’m not going to let Kim Mingyu within ten feet of you,” Wonwoo declares, dragging his boyfriend off. Wonwoo looks back once and smirks— _don’t ever say I don’t have your back._ “Have a good lunch.”

Giving Wonwoo a mental thumbs up— _thanks bro_ , Mingyu magically remembers the reason he’s best friends with Wonwoo.

(“Yeah, so apparently Soonyoung-hyung fished our friend out,” Minghao explains. They are sitting across from each other at an overpriced beachside food stall. Thankfully, Minghao seems to know the owners and got them both discounts on the otherwise expensive food. “They didn’t bother calling me back because they wanted to get Chan to first aid as quickly as possible.”

“I’m glad your friend was alright though,” Mingyu says, taking a large gulp out of their fish themed drink cups. “Imagine if you had to save me and your friend.”

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Minghao says slowly, biting into his lobster roll. “Junhui’s my cousin and he’s been a lifeguard for a while now. He honestly should have known better.”

“The mouth-to-mouth thing?” Mingyu asks between mouthfuls. He chews a little slower to talk. “Oh, uh, it wasn’t too bad.”

“I could do it better,” Minghao mumbles.

“What?” Mingyu croaks. A bite of his sandwich almost gets stuck in his throat, but he manages to swallow it through pure will. “What did you say?”

“I said he could have assisted the situation better,” Minghao declares loudly.

“That is not what you said,” Mingyu accuses.

“What do you think I said then?” Minghao asks with a sly smile.

“Um—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably right,” Minghao smiles a little too devilishly. “I’m the better kisser.”

Mingyu chokes on air. Help, he needs mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.)

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL I literally rewrote the entire drabble this evening. I just wasn’t happy with how I had it formatted before? But yeah. Some of you guys who follow me on tumblr might remember this...someone sent me a request about lifeguard AUs and I rambled about a gyuhao one. Well here it is LOL
> 
> Okay little pop quiz LOL (i can’t help it, imma healthcare provider)  
> Before any kind of CPR, there are things to assess! What did Minghao not check?  
> A) Responsiveness  
> B) Breathing  
> C) Pulse 
> 
> Answer: C) Pulse!  
> The three things to check:  
> 1) responsiveness, if they’re taking a nap, no need to do CPR LOL (altho that makes for some comedic moments in fic writing if that’s what you’re looking for)  
> 2) breathing, a finger under the nose is usually good, visually you can check for the chest rising and falling; and  
> 3) pulse [more specifically no pulse for 10 seconds], usually the fastest way to find a pulse is the carotid artery, it’s on the side of the neck, a little weird to describe but basically next to ur throat, there’s a dip in between the muscles and u can find your carotid artery there [other places: wrist, femoral artery]
> 
> ^ I have never taught a CPR class fyi so this is from my own studying. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed! ^^ <3


	8. we misunderstood (but now we're good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Hospital AU] Dr. Kim Mingyu is yelling into a refrigerator. The reason is a certain surgeon, Dr. Seo Myungho.

we misunderstood (but now we're good)

\---

“I cannot deal with him for a moment more!” Kim Mingyu wails into the refrigerator. He sticks his head further in the open door and yells at the cups of crudités. “ _ Damn you Seo Myungho! _ ”

The doctor’s lounge is appropriately empty for a Friday afternoon. Most of the attending physicians are either off to their private practices or hiding behind the closed doors of their offices. The residents and fellows are either heading home or preparing for a long weekend on-call. Even with the well stocked refrigerator and the plush chairs, the doctor’s lounge is not the usual hang out place for a Friday afternoon. 

But even if the lounge were packed, Mingyu would still have no problem screaming into the refrigerator. In fact, all the other doctors would probably just nod sympathetically— _ oh man, you too _ ?

“And what happened today?” Jeonghan, the head nurse, asks. He spins in the padded swivel chair, taking leisurely bites of his salad.

“Surgery and peds met,” Chan, the third-year resident, answers. He grabs the armrest and stops the other from turning. “Hyung, stop that. You’re making me dizzy.”

Ignoring his audience, Mingyu crouches down and continues yelling—this time at the fruit cups. He’s not yelling anything coherent, just a jumble of half formed words and noises. If some of them sounded like curse words followed by a particular surgeon’s name, Mingyu would neither confirm nor deny.

Dr. Kim Mingyu is a pediatrician at St. Victoria’s Town Hospital, and he’s proud to say he has one of the best patient satisfaction ratings in the department. Considering his rank as attending physician, Mingyu is pretty young. He’s just a touch above thirty-years-old—“Mingyu, please, you round up to forty,” Dr. Kwon from the emergency department teases. And he didn’t get to his position today just to be disrespected by some hotshot surgeon from China.

It didn’t matter how attractive he found said hotshot surgeon from China because Dr. Seo Myungho is an  _ asshole _ . Yes, he’s an attractive asshole, but those are only desirable in the club with one too many shots of hard liquor and the knowledge that tomorrow morning they’d go on their separate ways. It hasn’t happened yet, but hypothetically, if it were to, Mingyu would find Myungho quite attractive under those specific conditions.  

Not as colleagues in a  _ hospital _ . 

It doesn’t matter how many successful surgeries he’s had or how prestigious his previous hospital was! Seo Myungho is stuck up and rude to his seniors and unwilling to listen to the opinions of others and just— _ if this is how you run the pediatric wards, maybe it is in the best interest of the patient for surgery to take over the case. _

“Just because I’m not a surgeon doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like that!” Mingyu croaks at the fruit cups. His voice is finally giving away from all the yelling. The surgeon’s haughty words from early echoes in his head mockingly. He runs the pediatric wards just fine! “Why are all surgeons like this?” 

“You like Dr. Hong just fine,” Jeonghan comments, chewing on his plastic fork. “He’s in the surgery department.”

“Yeah, well, have you seen Dr. Hong do chest compressions? He legitimately breaks ribs every time,” Mingyu shoots back. He slowly gets up from his crouched position, and his knees pop in protest. “I’m pretty sure he could knock me out. He hides major muscle underneath that huge white coat of his.”

“I know,” Jeonghan smirks, and Chan gags.

“Keep your sex life to yourself please,” Chan groans. 

“If you insist,” Jeonghan smiles innocently. “Since doctors learn how to perform digital rectal exams, it’s great because you guys have great technique—”

“This is why we can never have a normal conversation!” the resident exclaims in exasperation. 

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Mingyu teases, closing the refrigerator door. He stretches his back and walks toward the lone table, plopping down in a cushioned chair. “If you ever need a prostate exam, I can vouch for Dr. Jeon. Very gentle and professional, only pleasure and never pain!” 

“If I were not on my peds rotation right now,” Chan frowns. 

“Even if you weren’t on your pediatrics rotation, I am still an attending physician,” Mingyu says smugly. “I am your senior regardless.”

While he likes to use his seniority to tease the younger physicians, Mingyu never means it maliciously. Professionally, he’s only strict about hierarchy in front of patients and the hospital’s executive board. Otherwise, he doesn’t really care if they call him Dr. Kim or hyung or sunbae. Although personally, he does prefer Mingyu-sunbaenim.

“Yes, Dr. Kim,” Chan says with an excessively cheery tone and fake smile. 

“Alright, Dr. Lee,” Mingyu says in a baby voice. He purses his lips in an exaggeration of a pout and tilts his head sideways, placing a finger on his cheek. Chan shudders. “Isn’t it time for our resident on-call to go be on-call?” 

“Yes, Dr. Kim,” Chan agrees, clasping his hands together in mock adoration. The younger physician jumps out of his seat and is out the door before Mingyu can make any more comments. “I’ll see you Monday for rounds!”

“I’m also going to be here for the weekend!” Mingyu calls over his shoulder at the slowly shutting door. He looks forward and sighs. “Well, isn’t he energetic?  _ Ah _ , I needed him to put in some orders.”

“Page him,” Jeonghan shrugs, playing with his half eaten salad. “What happened at the meeting today? Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

The nurse isn’t really supposed to be in the doctor’s lounge or eating the food provided for the doctor’s, but honestly, who’s going to stop him? The first lesson Mingyu learned after starting at the hospital was that Yoon Jeonghan was  _ that  _ nurse and being on his good side made life easier. A rule everyone abides to, even the hospital director Dr. Choi Seungcheol. And to be fair, Jeonghan is exceptional at his job.   

“The usual,” Mingyu answers, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. “I think the kid needs surgery immediately, and Dr. Seo thinks the kid needs to be more stable first.”

“Who’s right?” Jeonghan questions, and Mingyu knows the tone of voice. The head nurse always tries to get both sides of the story, and while it’s a little annoying, Mingyu understands the purpose.

“Okay, to be fair, he’s not  _ wrong _ ,” Mingyu admits. “But considering the severity and the kid’s history, they’re not going to stabilize to the point Dr. Seo wants them to.”—Mingyu starts talking faster. He knows he’s ranting now, but honestly, he’s been fighting with surgery for the past week!—”I’ve worked with this patient and their parents for so long. I  _ know _ . Giving the kid a couple more days isn’t going to help with anything.”

“Ah, Dr. Kim—” Jeonghan tries to interrupt, but Mingyu’s mouth is a runaway train.

“In fact, it may put our kid at greater risk! It’s a perforation! They could get an infection and  _ die _ ,” Mingyu rambles on, emphasizing  _ die _ with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “That kind of stability is useless for the operating table.” 

“Dr. Kim,” Jeonghan addresses him again. If Mingyu were paying attention, he would have noticed the nurse’s gaze was on someone behind him, but Mingyu is too caught up in his own tirade. He didn’t even notice the door opening and shutting behind him. 

“I’m almost done I swear,” Mingyu interjects. “So unless surgery wants to try operating on a dead child, I’m at a loss! I gave all my patient notes to the surgery department, and it’s like our dear foreign surgeon extraordinaire didn’t bother to read any of it! Great interdepartmental communication! I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow!” 

“What patient notes?” 

Mingyu freezes and stares at Jeonghan with wide eyes— _ is it him?  _ Jeonghan nods and takes another bite of his salad— _ yep _ .

“ _ What _ patient notes?”

Mingyu sits up straight in his chair and turns to the voice. Dr. Seo Myungho stands stiffly in the doorway to the doctor’s lounge. The other’s expression looks just as pressed as his white button up shirt. Oh dear, he’s angry. Mingyu really needs to learn how to mind his mouth or be more aware of his surroundings. Or maybe he just needs someone to vent to at home. He’s been on his own for too many years—

“Dr. Kim, you sent patient notes to me,” Dr. Seo states. Mingyu is sure that any other person would have phrased it into a question, but the surgeon always seems to do things a little differently than other people. “About additional risks and consideration.”

“Yes, I did,” Mingyu says with his chin high, refusing to be intimidated, but internally, Mingyu is screaming at himself.

Whelp, that’s it. This is the great fallout for pediatrics and surgery! Good job Dr. Kim Mingyu. He’s officially ruined the relationship between the two departments. Now tensions will run high and the residents will snap at each other and the hospital director will shake his head at Mingyu in disappointment and—

“你为什么没报告?” the surgeon asks, turning to the resident behind him. “当初，你为什么没有告诉我他有其他的病情.” 

Mingyu just realizes the little posse behind the other doctor. A different resident puts a hand over his mouth in shock and whispers to the others. Probably a translation of whatever the head surgeon was saying, and Mingyu almost wishes he could get a translation too. 

_ Why did you not report this? At the time, why didn’t you report that the patient has other considerations? _

“When I ask you guys to present patient cases to me, I expect you all to act like the doctors you are,” Dr. Seo sighs, switching back to Korean. He motions for his group to come into the lounge, and they shuffle in with their heads down like children waiting to be scolded. “I trust you to give me a full patient report, and when that doesn’t happen, you make a fool out of me and everyone else in our department.” 

“I’m sorry,” someone mumbles. 

“Sorry for making a fool out of me in front of Dr. Kim or sorry for delaying patient care,” the surgeon asks. 

“We are sorry for delaying patient care Dr. Seo!” one of the fellows apologizes, bowing and forcing the guilty looking resident to bow down as well. “As one of the senior fellows, I will make sure to monitor the residents better so situations like this will not happen in the future!” 

“See to it,” Dr. Seo nods. “Alright, well, we’re done with rounds. So unless you guys want to watch me eat lunch?”

“Ah, we will be leaving then!” the same fellow says cheerfully. She starts shoving the others out the door one by one. “Thank you for your guidance, Dr. Seo!”

“Lunch?” Jeonghan questions. He looks up at the surgeon with a frown. “It’s a little late for lunch like almost five hours too late for lunch. It’s also a little late for rounds too.”

“We had a lot of surgeries this morning and then department meetings,” Myungho shrugs, rubbing and stretching his neck. The surgeon walks towards the refrigerator, opens it and pulls out a fruit cup from the bottom shelf. “Thankfully we didn’t have too many patients to round on and most of them were transfers.” 

“Sounds tough,” Mingyu comments. He leans forwardly in his chair with his back straight. 

“Not as tough as dealing with kids, I’m sure,” Myungho smiles, and Mingyu thinks that was the first time he’s ever seen the surgeon smile. It was kind of cute.

“Why  _ was  _ general surgery consulted for a peds case though?” Jeonghan asks. He starts spinning in the swivel chair again. “Why didn’t it go to pediatric surgery?”

“Oh, Dr. Seo has extensive experience in pediatric surgery,” Mingyu answers. “He actually completed his surgery fellowship at a hospital known for their pediatrics department. And for this particular procedure, I think Dr. Seo actually presented on a similar case so I thought he would be the best surgeon to go to”—Jeonghan and Myungho share a look, but Mingyu doesn’t notice—“Why is a pediatric surgeon in the general surgery department? Well, I think the director said something about not having the funds to expand our ped surgery department but they didn’t want to miss out on a great candidate. And I agree that his experience is a great contribution to—”

“Woah, I didn’t know you were such a large fan of Dr. Seo,” Jeonghan interrupts dryly. He tosses his empty salad container like a basketball and does a little fist pump when it lands into the trashcan cleanly. “No one believes me when I say sexual tension is the root of most problems. I’m going to leave you two to continue this  _ privately _ .”

With that, Jeonghan meanders out of the doctor’s lounge with a casual wave. Just before the door closed, the nurse pokes his head in once more and grins, “But if you guys want someone to watch, just let me know! Dr. Hong doesn’t mind!” 

Speechless, Mingyu stares at the door with his mouth ajar. Awkward silence settles between them. Thoughts racing, Mingyu wonders if he should continue testing out these weird new friendly-colleague waters or just excuse himself immediately before his stupid mouth digs an unnecessary hole for himself. 

Without warning, Myungho bursts out laughing, and Mingyu forces out a couple of awkward chuckles. 

“You—you read my resume?  _ And _ you searched up my old workplace?” Myungho asks, still trying to reign in his giggles. He drops his fruit cup and laughs even more, trying to chase the rolling cup. “Oh my gosh, I thought you  _ hated _ me.”

“I—what?” Mingyu asks, taken aback. “One, your resume is on the hospital website; two, uh, well yeah, I looked it up; and third, I only hated you for a moment.”

“Was that moment this morning?” Myungho asks, pick up the fruit cup and sitting down in the previously occupied swivel chair. His eyes are sparkling, and Mingyu wonders if he’s ever seen Seo Myungho without a disappointed grimace. 

“Kind of? All this week?” Mingyu shrugs. “This morning, I was a little annoyed that you suggested I wasn’t running my department well, but I mean, we figured stuff out so I guess—”

“Are you over it, Dr. Kim?” Myungho asks, peeling off the wrap on the top of the fruit cup. 

“Not yet, Dr. Seo,” Mingyu says and then hesitates. Sure, they’re on friendlier terms than hours ago, but were they on good enough term for Mingyu to be joking around already? He glances at the other doctor, and Myungho merely watches him in amusement. Mingyu takes a deep breath and goes for it. “I think you owe me dinner for my emotional distress.”

“For my number one fan, I guess my celebrity self can spare some time for dinner,” Myungho teases. “Would you like to know my birthday too? Favorite color? Star sign?”

“Relationship status?” Mingyu asks quietly, and Myungho actually leans back at the straightforward question. 

“Single,” Myungho answers finally. “You?”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend since I was a fellow,” Mingyu answers easily. “There’s just no time.”

“Relatable,” Myungho chuckles and falls quiet.

Mingyu fidgets and watches Myungho poke at the orange slices. It’s like his years talking to kids and parents depleted his ability to flirt or even continue a non-work related conversation. What would a good looking single man say to another good looking single man? 

“This is kind of late, but you can just call me Myungho,” the surgeon offers. 

“Oh! Same, Mingyu’s good,” the pediatrician agrees. 

And the awkward silence returns. 

“So, for dinner,” Mingyu says slowly. “Are you free tonight?” 

\---

(“Oh,” Minghao shrugs, shifting through X-ray slides on the computer. “I don’t see why incompetent doctors should be respected.”

“But they’re your seniors,” Mingyu nags. He looks around the empty office curiously. Mingyu’s never been in the surgery department before, and it’s surprisingly orderly. “Even if they’re incompetent, you shouldn’t  _ outright _ —”

“I take care of patients,” Minghao interrupts. He points at a couple of opacities and scribbles some notes in his notebook. “Not their egos.”

“Why were you so angry at me though?” Mingyu asks. From what he’s heard, the surgeon usually made sarcastic comments, but that morning, Minghao criticized him upfront. 

“I—I thought you were a good doctor,” Minghao admits, and Mingyu watches an embarrassed flush crawl up the other’s neck. “It always sounded like you knew what you were doing, and the kids really liked you. I was just disappointed that you were so negligent, and I’m glad that ended up not being true.”

“ _ Ooh _ , were you a fan of mine?” Mingyu teases. 

“Does this mean I get to claim emotional distress?” Myungho asks, elbowing the other with a quick jab. 

“If—if you wanted to get dinner,” Mingyu groans, pressing against his injured side. “You could have just asked.”

“Are you free tonight?” Minghao asks, looking over his shoulder with a wink.

“For you, always,” Mingyu smiles, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist in a back hug. “I’m free  _ all  _ night.”

“How scandalous,” Minghao smirks and leans into the other’s arms. “Well, Mr. I’m-Free- _ All _ -Night, what should we—”

“Keep your sex life to yourself  _ please _ !” Chan hisses, poking his head into the open door. Startled, Minghao tries to wriggle out of Mingyu’s grasp, but Mingyu isn’t about to let him go. Chan shakes his head and shuts the door behind him. “I’m not in my pediatrics rotation anymore, _geez_ .”

“Respect your seniors!” Mingyu yells at the closed door. “I’m still an attending physician!” 

“So, dinner,” Minghao mumbles.)

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL this was not what qiqi and I talked about but HEY IT’S A HOSPITAL AU :D I DID IT MOM. For some reason, I just imagine Chan being the overly capable resident who’s just tired all the time LOl. Jihoon’s the pathology angel, Vernon’s anesthesiology, Soonyoung is the ER doc, Wonwoo’s in the pharmacy, kwan is a nurse on the floors and seok is a receptionist who’s way too smiley at 5 in the morning. 
> 
> I have like 6 different hospital AUs LOL that i wanna write, eventually, guyz, eventually.
> 
> Big shout out to Jess who's been beta'ing the fics!!! These would not be half as polished without her help~ <3


	9. Croquis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Model AU] Mingyu is a model who wants to be a fashion designer. Minghao is a fashion designer who wants a muse. Together, they will both get what they want.

**Croquis**

\---

Mingyu puts his pencil down and sighs. 

He looks down at his messy page of sketches and flips to a clean page with a sigh of exasperation. The sketches aren’t exactly terrible, it’s just not quite what he wants. For some reason, Mingyu can’t think of a better way to interpret his assignment. 

As a second-year student at the Fashion Institute, Mingyu was so used to concrete assignments— _ design a summer sportswear line for Adidas consider cost, target consumers and market strategies _ or even a looser,  _ design a marketable Halloween costume _ . 

All his upperclassmen had warned him about this particular professor. Like they said, his Collection Development professor decided that their year needed to do something different, something innovative, something like— _ design a fall collection inspired by an unexpected surprise. _

What the fuck does that even mean? It almost sounded like something out of a fortune cookie! He couldn’t tell whether the professor was giving Mingyu full reign to do whatever he wanted or whether the sly professor was looking for a specific interpretation. 

Tilting his chair onto two legs, Mingyu looks up at the café ceiling for an answer, but the plaster gives him no answers. Returning to his blank page, Mingyu starts sketching a nine heads template just to do  _ something _ productive. The most recent  _ unexpected surprise  _ had been when—

“You’re a student here?” 

Mingyu looks up and almost falls off his leaned back chair in shock. Seo Myungho grins at him dressed in his ripped designer jeans, vintage printed t shirt and an expensive gray coat from his own 2015 fall collection. Mingyu opens his mouth to say something, but his jaw is stuck. 

One of the most promising fashion designers in all of Asia is standing in a rundown coffee shop with clothing probably more expensive than everything inside the shop combined. Mingyu sneaks a glance at the shoes—Gucci Princetown Leather Backless Loafers, of fucking course. Of course, he walked around in thousand dollar loafers.  

Speechless, Mingyu admits that this was very different from their first meet. 

At the Seoul Fashion Week, the man had approached him in between shows in a large bucket hat, black face mask and wide reflective sunglasses. Already a little creeped out, Mingyu had asked politely who the man was and what business he had. 

“Be my muse for my next collection.”

Mingyu had smiled awkwardly, made some pretty pathetic excuse and ran with it. He had almost tripped during his next runway walk when he recognized the man sitting in the first row, chatting leisurely with the designer of the show. The man ditched the mask and sunglasses, but from the rest of the outfit and that purple plaid bucket hat, it had been obvious. Mingyu stared ahead determined to keep a blank face, and he almost succeeded. 

Mingyu had meet the other’s eyes on accident during his walk back, and he stumbled at the intensity of the other’s gaze. The man blinked in surprise but smirked when he realized— _ do I affect you that much? _ Huffing, Mingyu stomped back down the runway, and thankfully the music was louder than his echoing footsteps. 

“Be my muse for my next collection, Kim Mingyu,” the man had requested again at the after party. “Here’s my card. Think about it. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You never even introduced yourself,” Mingyu said, crossing his arms and pointedly ignoring the business card. “Why should I?”

“Oh,  _ oh _ , I’m so sorry,” the man had apologized, scratching his head sheepishly. “Uh, I’m Xu Minghao. I’m a fashion designer from China.” 

Mingyu frowned and his mouth started moving a mile a minute, “Wait, like  _ the _ Seo Myungho? Like the upcoming Seo Myungho who designed  _ the _ outfit for a Chinese actor who basically stole the show  on the red carpet in Hollywood? Whose sunglasses line became the most desired look in summer of 2016? Who got a feature in Vogue two months ago? Who basically—”

“I guess I am,”  _ the  _ Seo Myungho had laughed, cheeks flushed pink. “And if you would let me, I would like to base my next collection off you.”

Dumbstruck at the idea that someone with a name wanted a  _ no _ -name like him as a muse, Mingyu had taken the card and promised to think about it. But he never thought he’d see Myungho here—sitting across from him in a cheap café next to campus. 

“I didn’t expect you to study fashion design,” Minghao says, leaning over to glance at his sketch pad. “I thought you were just a pretty faced model.”

“Isn’t it nice that I can surprise you?” Mingyu asks dryly. He flips his sketch pad closed and stuffs it into his backpack. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“I’m just visiting my muse,” Minghao smiles. Mingyu squints at the man. “Alright, fine, I was visiting a friend at the school and saw you while passing by. But, you said you’d think about it.”

“I—I’m still thinking about it,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Is there anything I could offer to tip that to ‘ _ I will do it’ _ ?” Myungho asks. Mingyu hesitates. There is 

He wants to provide creative input on the collection.

Even though he was studying fashion design, Mingyu felt like his career had veered off into modeling. He had been scouted at a school event when he modeled for an upperclassman as a favor. Since then, he’s walked much more runways than he’s been present in class. 

Even his professors asked him to reconsider— _ you have the height and a popular frame, you can always finish your degree later, there’s always later, you can always model first _ , but Mingyu wants to be a fashion designer. 

While he doesn’t mind modeling, Mingyu wants to be a part of the creative designing process. He wants to sketch drafts and debate colors. He wants to pick fabrics, cut patterns and stitch together the final products. 

And Mingyu doesn’t realize that he’s said most of this out loud.

“Okay, deal,” Minghao says, tapping the table surface. “You be my muse and we’ll work together on the fall collection for next year.”

“I—wait, what?”

“It’ll be a collaborative effort—a collaboration between Seo Myungho and Kim Mingyu,” Minghao nods. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and places it down in front of Mingyu. “Give me your number and I’ll send you my address and the passcode.”

“Passcode?” Mingyu echoes. He reaches out for the other’s phone slowly. 

“It’s already October and I wanted to make it in time for New York,” Minghao says, counting the months on his fingers. “Gives us about five months, plenty of time, but I’d rather not—”

“Why do I need the passcode to your apartment?” Mingyu questions.

“You’re my muse,” Minghao answers frankly. “And we’re collaborators now. Shouldn’t you move in with me for the time being?”

“What?” 

“Mingyu and Myungho,” Minghao thinks out loud. “I like the sound of that.”

Mingyu doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry so he does neither and just says, “I can’t get up in the mornings.”

“I’ll find a way,” Minghao winks, and Mingyu wonders whether he should be scared or excited.

\---

Assignment:  _ design a fall collection inspired by an unexpected surprise _ [Completed]

Professor’s Comments: 

_ Even though you turned this in six months late, I will still give you half credit. Congratulations on your new line! The show was amazing. I do have one question, there was a design you submitted that I don’t believe I saw on the runway—the one in which you colored in the model but not the clothes _ .  _ By any chance, was he your  _ unexpected surprise _?  _

_ -YJH  _

_ p.s. you two look cute together, those couple rings better not be click bait.  _

\---

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah that was poor execution um. BUT BASICALLY, the entire idea was supposed to be that gyuhao feel trapped. Designer Minghao found inspiration in Model Mingyu, and Model Mingyu found a way to actually be a designer with Minghao’s platform.
> 
> There’s actually…a lot of story that I omitted due to time. The Chinese actor who stole the show in Hollywood was Junhui, and Hao’s inspiration for his sunglasses collection was Wonwoo. “Do you do this with all your muses?” “No, just you.” I may go back and flesh this one out. 
> 
> (random: DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE, YJN jeonghan is asking about the couple rings again? eeeh eeeeeeeh~ *gets bricked* okay lol imma stop) 
> 
> I hope everyone’s enjoying! It’ll be the end of the first week ^^ This project has definitely been a challenge for me in terms of...sheer number of one-shots, but hopefully everyone’s been enjoying them well. <3


	10. Circle: Our Worlds Connect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by Circle: Two Worlds Connect] In the year 2035, Xu Minghao and Kim Mingyu are thirty-eight-years-old, but after fifteen years, Kim Mingyu still looks like he's twenty-three.

**Circle: Our Worlds Connect**

\---

“ _That’s not Kim Mingyu_.”

“Eight, please,” Seungkwan pleads, shoving them through the open door. “Can’t we leave this argument for when we manage to _get out_?”

Mingyu allows himself to be manhandled down the emergency staircase. His mind is a jumbled mess of questions, but his mouth refuses to vocalize any of them. It doesn’t help that the man who said he was Mingyu’s old college underclassman is pulling him down the stairs in a fast jog.

Staring at the other’s side profile, Mingyu tries to piece together the Boo Seungkwan he knew, with this man— the one holding a gun with practiced ease. And he can’t. The Seungkwan he knew didn’t know how to use a gun, never _held_ a gun. Mingyu remembers an ecstatic freshman who loved to talk, loved to sing, and for that, often got sent on Wonwoo’s offsite errands.

Mingyu’s chest tightens at the thought of Jeon Wonwoo. The last time he saw his research supervisor was through the window of an escaping car. He had heard gunshots but Myungho had pointedly told him keep his eyes forward— _they knew this might happen, both Seungcheol-hyung and Wonwoo-hyung knew, they knew, so don’t you dare look back._

Myungho.  

Mingyu looks hesitantly at the older man—the lines sit heavier around his eyes and some skin sags slightly from his chin. If what they had told him was correct, this was thirty-eight-year-old Seo Myungho. Thirty-eight-year-old Seo Myungho who had been looking for Mingyu for the past fifteen years.

Yet, Kim Mingyu looks every bit of the twenty-three-year-old he had been.

_It’s because he’s a clone. Kim Mingyu died years ago, but we needed his brain map and memories. So we made a clone. He’s not even the first clone._

And Mingyu had felt so guilty watching thirty-eight-year-old Seo Myungho’s expression fall. It had been so slight, but even after fifteen years, the way his bottom lip twitched was still the same.

They made eye contact accidentally as the group rounded the railing on the seventh floor. Mingyu has seen that look before, but it had never been towards him. The look of thinly veiled disgust— eyes wide, brows furrowed and nose pulled down by his deep-set grimace. Myungho looks away first, continuing his trek down the stairs.

“Come on,” the man who introduced himself as Junhui urges. “Mingyu-ah, we need to get out first.”

Mingyu nods.

\---

“He looks like Mingyu and has Mingyu’s memories!” Seokmin argues. Mingyu stares helplessly at the tension waiting to burst. Seokmin has also aged—aged well as they had predicted, but he is no longer the brightly smiling young man Mingyu had met in college. “He _is_ Kim Mingyu.”

“He’s Mingyu?” Myungho, no, Mingyu corrects himself—Eight asks. The man stands up and gestures in Mingyu’s direction. “Yah, Lee Seokmin. If you hadn’t been listening, Kim Mingyu is dead. He’s dead and _this_ is a clone.”

“Since you don’t have Seo Myungho’s memories,” Seokmin says evenly. Eight clenches his fist, and Mingyu tries to piece everything together. Did Myungho lose his memories? Was it during the accident? “Does that mean you’re not Seo Myungho?”

“ _Seokmin_ ,” Soonyoung hisses in warning, tugging the other’s sleeve. Seokmin throws the other’s hand off and maneuvers in front of Mingyu.

“And how can you say any of this in front of Mingyu?” Seokmin asks, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. “You love him. You searched for Mingyu for fifteen years because you love him!”

“I _loved_ Kim Mingyu,” Eight answers with a barely concealed sneer. “The Kim Mingyu I loved is dead. Those”—Eight glares in Mingyu’s direction—“Those are not the hands I held, not the lips I kissed.”

Mingyu feels his heart go cold. He was already so confused— _I’m a clone, I’m fifteen years in the future, Myungho, I’m so scared, please Hao_ —

“This is just a substitute they made to take Mingyu’s place,” Eight continues, finally choking up, and his next words spill out in a whisper. “He is not Kim Mingyu.”

—and he’s now alone. For Mingyu, it felt like three days ago that Myungho caressed his hand, kissed him with pouty lips and said _I love you_ with a tiny giggle.

But, for Eight, it had been a long fifteen years.

“Why are you being like this Myungho?” Seokmin asks and it almost sounds like a plea. Seokmin grabs Myungho—no, Mingyu corrects himself again, Seokmin grabs Eight’s arm and shakes him. “Can you imagine waking up fifteen years in the future, being overwhelmed with all _this_ , and then having your lover, someone who was supposed to be your rock, an anchor, deny your very existence?”

“ _Then who died_?” Eight yells, eyes blown wide with hysteria. “Then answer me this. Who died all those years ago then? Who was it who got taken from me as I laid dying in the street?”

“Eight, it’s not the time—” Soonyoung tries to interrupt, but Eight wasn’t done.

“If he is Kim Mingyu because he has Mingyu’s memories,” Eight says, breathing heavily. “Then you’re right. I’m not Seo Myungho because I barely fucking remember anything.”

No one tries to stop him as Eight storms out of the basement room, slamming the doors as he went. Soonyoung sighs deeply, and Junhui pats Mingyu’s shoulder comfortingly before hurrying out of the room, calling out in Chinese.

“I’m going to check the perimeters,” Soonyoung informs them, standing up and stretching out his legs. “I’ll fill in Seungkwan and Chan so they know what’s going on.”

Mingyu watches the older man walk out of the room and listens as his footsteps disappeared into the distance. Seokmin hasn’t moved from his defensive stance since Eight left, and Mingyu doesn’t know whether he should approach his friend.

“You are Kim Mingyu,” Seokmin says, breaking the silence. He turns to him with blotchy red cheeks and wet eyes. The older man gives him a feeble smile. “Just—just give him some time. You know how Myungho is.”

Mingyu nods automatically, but he doesn’t know. Myungho was the one who knew him best, and if Myungho was saying he wasn’t Mingyu, maybe he really isn’t Kim Mingyu.

_Then who am I?_

_\---_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …and eventually they hug/kiss/make up :D Okay so I didn’t think that far ahead about this AU and if you've seen the kdrama, it may seem familiar~ 
> 
> but here are my writing notes (so if you see writing notes, Im probably never gonna write it LOL):
> 
> Background: it’s 2035 and now peeps can inject themselves with nanomachines to regulate health and control disease, but peeps w/ these nanomachines are mysteriously dying of sickness called the 17th (after the first symptoms, people die in 17 days), the company is on the hunt for a hacker duo known as the Angel and Devil because they’re the ones who spread the virus!
> 
> \- Eight (myungho after he loses his memories in an accident) is part of the detective agency, and city hall calls them to secretly investigate the suicide of someone who had the nanomachines  
> * The nanomachine company promises to be of any help they can: “This is our product, and we cannot advertise that we’ve successfully eliminated depression if this is true.” “How about you care a little about the girl who died instead of your product?”  
> * Eight finds leads to a hacker duo called Angel and Devil but the nanomachine company blocks him from pursuing them, finding it weird, eight digs and finds files for the 17 project with his picture in a file w/ all the researchers 
> 
> \- Slowly started regaining his memories and decides to search for his long-lost lover Mingyu, hao doesn’t remember all of this but here are the memories in full:  
> * They used to research nanotechnology together w/ Seungcheol and Wonwoo, called the 17 project because they could only control the nanobots for 17 seconds, eventually gyu controls them but only he can do it, are unable to replicate  
> * woncheol were killed ‘cause they refused to hand gyu over – gyuhao barely escape and gets into the accident during the chase, left hao for dead ‘cause gyu was the one who could control the nanomachines  
> * mingyu died years ago but was cloned ‘cause the nanomachine technology only recognizes his brain map (basically mingyu could make the nanomachines do anything he could imagine)
> 
> \- Jeonghan + Jihoon are the hackers who are trying to expose the nanomachine technology for what it is – a company playing god by controlling the life span of people using the nanomachines  
> * “I wouldn’t say we’re playing God. Oh no, it’s population control. We humans are greedy and use up far too many resources. We as a species are going to hit the bottleneck and why? Why let society get run over by the reproductive whims of useless trash when we could keep the productive members of society? Look at our glorious country of the Republic of Korea! Are we not in the forefront because of this technology?! We are doing humanity a favor!!”  
> * ^ this dude is gonna get wrecked.
> 
> How does it end? Um. Not sure yet :D


	11. Let Us Turn You On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Electrician AU] The van looks sketchy and the slogan sounds like something out of a bad porno. The driver steps out, and Minghao is leaning towards the bad porn.

**Let Us Turn You On**

\---

The moment he saw the van driving up, Minghao should have left for lunch. He should have given keys to the electrician—no matter how unprofessional it would have been to leave the office unattended, and left for an extended lunch.

Instead, Minghao decides to be a responsible employee and stays to make sure the electrician doesn’t make off with all the company tablets—or worse, Jihoon’s keyboard.

(Why does Jihoon keep a keyboard in the human resources department? Who knows? He didn’t even work in their _building_.)

Sitting at the receptionist desk, Minghao keeps an eye out for their scheduled electric workers. Even though his own desk is two stories up, Minghao wants their electric panel to be upgraded as soon as possible.

It was nearing July, and their building had consistently short circuited—“I’m pretty sure it’s because of the six AC unit we have,” Seungkwan had sighed, fanning himself with some document printouts. A call to their electric company confirmed the matter: they were running too many appliances for the amount of electricity their panel provided.

Minghao perks up when he sees a large van pull into their parking lot. Getting up and striding towards the glass doors, the employee pushes open the swinging door with a greeting on the tip of his tongue, but his jaw snaps shut once he _actually_ sees the van. Mortified, Minghao stares and struggles to keep his stiff smile as pleasant as possible.

 _Where did Soonyoung find them?_ Minghao wonders, and unfortunately, he can imagine what might have happened. Their department manager, Kwon Soonyoung, was probably scrolling through possible electric companies online and chose the one which had the most amusing tagline.

And while Minghao is thoroughly amused, he’s also concerned.

These people ride around in a white van with the bolded words— _SC_ _Electric Company: Let Us Turn You On_.

The dirt smudged van looks like it’s ready to kidnap children with ‘free candy’, and the slogan sounds like it came out of a bad porn short. All together, SC Electric Company feels shady, and Minghao is supposed to let these people into the building.

The driver steps out, and Minghao is leaning towards the bad porn.

The driver is the very definition of dark, tall and handsome—black hair, tanned skin, strong jaw and appropriately fashionable sunglasses. He’s wearing a tight white T-shirt with the company name printed on the front and casual navy jeans. Minghao’s pretty sure the shirt shouldn’t be as see through as it is, but to say he didn’t stare at the other’s protruding chest muscles with a tiny bit of appreciation is a lie. A big fat lie.

“Hi, I’m Mingyu from SC Electric Company,” the man introduces himself. He takes off his sunglasses with practiced ease, squinting at the sunlight, and gives Minghao a wide smile, canines and all. “We were called for a panel upgrade?”

 _I’ll buy you a coffee when I come back from lunch_ : Soonyoung had promised. That is the only reason Minghao stays. It has nothing to do with the fact Mingyu is very attractive, and Minghao would definitely watch a porno with— _okay_ , _not safe for work and inappropriate to the nth degree_ , Minghao warns himself.

“I’m Minghao, and yes,” Minghao says slowly, tearing his eyes away from the other’s face. He turns, opening the door for the electrician, and motions for Mingyu to follow him. Alright, now that he’s done being an utter creep, Minghao forces himself to focus on the task at hand. “We have one electric panel located in the backroom.”

“One electric panel for the entire building?” Mingyu asks in surprise. He takes a couple quick steps so they’re walking side by side. “Are there other panels? How many meters do you guys have? Rather than a panel upgrade, maybe you guys want to add a subpanel instead?”

“I’ll be honest and admit that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Minghao says, turning to the other with a sheepish smile.

“Oh don’t worry about it! I’ll just go and check it out for myself,” Mingyu says quickly. “So uh, what kind of work do you guys do in here? I just want to know ‘cause, well, to see how much electricity you guys need in here.”

“Oh, this is mostly an office building,” Minghao answers, and he almost laughs when Mingyu’s hair flops along with his furious nodding. “Lots of paper pushing.”

“So lots of computer and printers?” Mingyu asks. “Do you use a lot of electronics?”

“I guess? I type a lot?”

There’s something easy going about Mingyu. Maybe it’s the way he rambles like they hadn’t just meet or the way he walks close like he’s not worried about their elbows knocking together. And, while there’s a chance Minghao’s just imagining it, Mingyu seems eager to talk, almost like he’s interested—

“Do you work out a lot?” Mingyu asks. Minghao blinks, when did they get to this topic? “Uh, well, I mean, you seem pretty fit for a paper pusher.”

“I—I try to work out when I can,” Minghao shrugs as nonchalantly as possible.

Lies, he goes to the gym three days a week and almost every weekend. Minghao stands up a little straighter and tries to flex his arms, but the loose sleeves of his button up shirt are uncooperative. Too bad it would be against company dress code for Minghao to come in with a white see through t-shirt.

“I can tell,” Mingyu says with a wide smile and a too-quick wink. It’s innocent enough for a passing compliment, but Minghao wonders if winking and then looking away in embarrassment is how most people ended their nice comments.

“And here’s the back room with the electric panel,” Minghao points, walking toward the half open door. He opens it and walks right into the dark room—it’s a small closet like room, barely enough to fit two adults comfortably.

It was once used to store cleaning supplies, but one day, Soonyoung declared using the room for storage was too hazardous and that the lock was broken. That was the same day Jihoon limped to work with a sprained ankle. To this day, no one knows _exactly_ what happened, but Minghao could take some very educated guesses.

Minghao fumbles for the light switch and almost squeaks when he feels Mingyu walk into him. Startled, Minghao turns around on instinct with his arms up in a defensive stance. The electrician didn’t seem to realize the size of the room and blindly followed Minghao in. It would have been an easy fix if—

 _Click_.

—the door was open.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Mingyu apologizes, grabbing Minghao’s shoulders to keep his balance in the dark.

The darkness only made Minghao more aware of how _close_ Mingyu is. Feeling the other’s breath on his forehead, Minghao flails for the light switch. One of his fingers catches and flips the light on. From complete darkness, it’s suddenly too bright, and all Minghao can see is the other’s lips at eye level.

“ _Oh_ , I’m sorry!” Mingyu apologizes again, leaning back into the door. “Uh, let me just open this door back up. Uh, if it will open. It’s a little tight.”

Minghao hears the telltale jingle of the doorknob, but he knows it’s not going to open. It needs to be opened from the outside, and lucky them, everyone is at lunch.

“Maybe if I push it harder?” Mingyu questions, sounding increasingly more panicked. And it’s getting weirdly warm as the electrician keeps alternating between weird whines and breathless grunts as he struggles with the door knob behind him.

“It won’t open,” Minghao says loudly, and Mingyu stops.

“Oh,” the other says, deflating against the door. “Maybe get someone to fix it?”

Their knees knock together, and Mingyu tries to stand up straight, only to hit his head against the door frame. Groaning in pain, the taller man clutches the back of his head and leans forward with his hair right in front of Minghao’s nose. Turning away, Minghao also tries to put more space in between them, but the handle of the electric panel is digging into his back. There’s no space to back up.

“Do you think you can call someone?” Mingyu asks, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.

“No signal back here,” Minghao answers, swallowing thickly. “Weird dead zone.”

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic,” Mingyu says with an apologetic smile. “I shouldn’t have closed the door without thinking.”

“Claustrophobic? Not really, but I still don’t like being in tight spaces,” Minghao chuckles nervously. He’s one wrong move away from hysterical laughter.

This all seems like the start of a very cliche porno. Minghao is stuck in a small closet with an attractive man who’s in a tight, see through shirt. And while Minghao wants to look down at the man in a tight see-through-shirt, Minghao isn’t short enough to inconspicuously stare down at the other’s chest. So he keeps his eyes on Mingyu’s exposed collarbones instead—which is proving to be a terrible idea as well.

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asks in concern. Minghao looks up and tries not punch the other in the jaw. They are nose to nose, and Minghao’s staring at Mingyu cross eyed. “You’re breathing a little fast. Are you sure you’re not claustrophobic?”

“Oh, trust me, that’s not it,” Minghao laughs a little pitchy. It doesn’t help that the words _let us turn you on_ flashes across Minghao’s eyes.

Mingyu opens his mouth to say something, but it’s quickly reduced to a screech.

“ _Big fucking spider_!”

Minghao doesn’t even get to react. One moment, he’s trying to find said big spider and the next, he’s wrapped in Mingyu’s arms and pressed face first into the other’s collarbones. Their legs tangle together in a hectic stomp dance as Mingyu tries frantically to guide them to squish the offending bug. Feeling lightheaded, Minghao doesn’t know if he even breathed during that odd couple dance.

“It’s dead,” Mingyu finally whispers, still holding Minghao tightly against him.

 _Yeah, I think I am too_ , Minghao thinks. He’s painfully aware that they’re pressed together, chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch, in a tiny closet.

“This is almost like a cliche porn film,” Mingyu laughs in embarrassment.

“Almost,” Minghao mutters sarcastically into the other’s neck. “Less of a porno and more like the joke that’s my life.”

“I mean, we have half an hour left of your lunch break,” Mingyu says, trailing off. Minghao pushes away from Mingyu’s chest and tries to catch the other’s eyes. Mingyu is adamantly avoiding his gaze, but his hands slides slowly down to Minghao’s waist.

“I barely know you,” Minghao says in amusement. Mingyu’s hands quickly let go, but Minghao grabs them, keeping them firmly pressed against his sides. “I usually like dating first.”

“Well, this is one hell of a first date,” Mingyu snickers. “I’ve never quite had one like this.”

“With a company slogan like _let us turn you on_ , I’m surprised you haven’t,” Minghao smirks, leaning fully into the other. Their nose to nose again, but this time, Minghao is in full control of himself. Ah, the wonders of getting on the same page. “I guess I should also show you how the door lock broke.”

“How?” Mingyu asks in a whisper, trembling as Minghao leans even closer.

“I said _show_ ,” Minghao whispers into the other’s open lips. He leans forward to press their lips together—

“Who closed the— _oh my goodness_!”

Minghao gasps as he falls forward. He scrunches his eyes shut and groans as his chin collides against Mingyu’s chest. While Minghao’s fall was mostly cushioned, Mingyu is not so lucky, and he clutches his head in pain for the second time. Minghao blinks blearily at their unexpected cockblock—er, savior.

Seungkwan is holding a pre-packaged salad bowl in front of his chest and staring down at them in wide eyed shock. Eyes darting around to take in the situation—Minghao splayed on top of another man after tumbling out of _that_ closet, Seungkwan’s expression goes from confused to sly.

“Are you serious, hyung?” Seungkwan asks with a hand on his hip and his salad bowl balanced on the other hand.

“Seungkwan, it’s not what you—”

“ _Right in front of my salad_?”

\---

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there really is an electric company with this slogan: let us turn you on. I almost crashed my car into a light pole when I saw it drive past me. 
> 
> okay i’ve been DYING to use that right in front of my salad? meme. please don’t brick me. (and if you don’t know where it came from, don’t look for the original ‘cause it is...from a porno [i mean unless u want to, i take no responsibility for any scarring, you were warned lol])
> 
> And yes soonyoung convinced jihoon to hanky-panky in the storage closet.


	12. The Prince and the Kitchen Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Royal AU] Minghao is the Crowned Prince and Mingyu is a kitchen boy.

**The Prince and the Kitchen Boy**

\---

On second thought, this might have been a bad idea.

“给我回来，小偷!”

Rounding the corner, fifteen-year-old Kim Mingyu flees for his life. The man chasing him is brandishing a large butcher's’ knife used to cut through bone.

“等着! 我抓到你的时候!”

Mingyu is just a kitchen help, apprenticing for a famous Korean chef. Unfortunately, his mentor decided that serving the emperor of China was not something a mere kitchen boy should be participating in. The chef could not make any mistakes for the sake of national honor. So Mingyu spends his days more or less, wandering aimlessly in the servant quarters of the palace.

He had taken a quick stroll into the kitchen, looking for something to do. Anything at all. Mingyu sorted the vegetables and sharpened the knives. Originally, he wasn’t going to touch the fruit, but seeing a dirt smudge on one of the persimmons, Mingyu couldn’t help clean it off with on a kitchen towel. Just as he was going to put it back, an angry looking kitchen staff started yelling at him in Chinese.

Rather than placing the persimmon down and trying to explain himself, Mingyu took one look at the meat cleaver and ran. Not the most thought out plan of action.

“别跑! 你给我回来!”

Sprinting down the unfamiliar hallways, he tries not to clench the fruit in his hands too much. If he wanted to get out of here alive, maybe he should just return the persimmon. Mingyu takes a quick peek behind him—nope, the large knife is still held high with murderous intent.

He isn’t about to die because of a fruit.

Mingyu looks ahead and spots a courtyard. Running at the open area in full force, Mingyu reasons he could lose the other man in the corridors facing different directions. In his haste, the kitchen boy doesn’t see an incoming shadow, and the collision is inevitable. The force knocks both of them on the floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mingyu wheezes, scrambling on his feet again. He looks down at the person he ran into, and the teenage boy looks up at him offended. The boy is dressed in the white cotton robes of common servants, but he glares up at Mingyu like a haughty noble.

“大胆!” the boy scolds, and Mingyu just stares at him. The boy sounds like a noble too.

“看你往哪里跑!”

“I’m sorry, uh, I’m just going to run—” Mingyu tries to explain in Korean, and it’s a futile attempt.

With a slap on the knee, the boy seems to realize something and grins widely. He grabs Mingyu’s hand and runs, pulling the Korean kitchen boy behind him.

“Wait, where are we going?” Mingyu asks, jogging half-heartedly and resisting.

“Follow,” the boy says in accented Korean, and hearing the nearing footsteps of eventual doom, Mingyu doesn’t really have a choice. “Follow.”

“Following!” Mingyu agrees, running faster now.

“Follow,” the boy laughs, pulling Mingyu along the maze of corridors and courtyards. Mingyu isn’t able to keep track of where they were going, and he’s amazed at how complicated the palace was. “Follow!”

Running quickly, Mingyu follows. The boy is very familiar with the palace, and Mingyu supposes servants should be. Slowly but surely, the footsteps and the angry yelling fade away with every twist and turn.

The boy doesn’t stop until they’re at some tiny garden space, and Mingyu guesses they’re far from where they first collided.

“谢xie,” Mingyu thanks, leaning against the wall and breathing as hard as he could. “Uh—我很 gan 谢 ni, 你的帮 zhu.” _Thank you, I’ve very thankful for your help._

The boy smiles at him with a lopsided grin, and Mingyu smiles back, hunching over in exhaustion. The boy points at him, making exaggerated inhales of breath and tired faces, and laughs. Even without any words, Mingyu knows the other is teasing him, and he furrows his brows in an angry pout. And just like Mingyu hopes, the boy starts laughing harder.

“公子, 你也太疯狂了.” _Your Highness, you are acting too wild._

Shocked, Mingyu turns and almost drops the persimmon in his trembling hands. A man in gold-embroidered robes is standing tall with his chin held high and arms clasped behind him. While the man looks scary on his own, the line of soldiers behind him is even scarier.

“今天又逃课又想逃宫,” the man sighs, flipping out his sleeves to bring his hands in front of him. “你有完没完?” _Today you escaped from class then tried to escape from the palace. Are you done?_

“谁要你跟的那么紧?” the boy shrugs, straightening up in a very similar pose. Mingyu stares at his savior who suddenly looks so much more regal in those white robes. “俊辉哥，你要是不告诉父王的话，谁会知道?” _Why are you following so closely? Junhui-hyung, if you don’t tell my father the emperor, who will know?_

“就是他! 偷了曾给皇家的果子!” _It’s him! He stole the fruit that’s meant to be gifted to the Royal Family!_

Mingyu cringes as the kitchen staff who’d been following him tumbles out into the small garden with sweaty gusto. Well, this is it.

“是我要他偷得,” the boy says, staring defiantly at the other man and ignoring the startled gasp of the kitchen staff. “我想吃, 没想等到晚会.” _I told him to steal it. I wanted to eat one and I didn’t want to wait until the evening banquet._

“徐明浩,” the man says warningly.

“是我命令他的,” the boy argues. Turning to Mingyu, he points at the persimmon and holds out his hand. “Follow. Follow.” _I gave him the order._

“Following,” Mingyu echoes in confusion. He’s not sure what’s going on, but it seems like following the boy’s requests is the best course of action. So he places the persimmon in the other’s outstretched hand.

The boy rubs the fruit against the side of his robe and takes a large bite. He stares straight at the well-dressed man with a raised eyebrow— _what are you going to do to me?_

“我的天呀!” _Oh my heavens!_

Mingyu perks up at the sound of his mentor's voice. The chef pushes through the line of soldiers and runs towards Mingyu. He’s never seen his mentor so panicked, and Mingyu isn’t given a chance to even ask. The chef shoves Mingyu on his knees and collapses next to him.

“公子! 原谅这个笨孩子! 他没有教育，没有礼貌!” the chef informs, bowing his head down to the ground and smacking Mingyu to do the same. Mingyu frowns into the dirt at the sound of his name. He can tell when people are talking badly of him no matter what language. “原谅我们的珉奎! 他不懂这里的规矩!”

_Your Highness! Please forgive this stupid child. He has no education and no manners! Please forgive our Mingyu! He doesn’t understand the rules around here!_

“是我要珉奎带给我的,” the boy shrugs, taking another nonchalant bite. “要是没其他事的话, 散吧.” _I told Mingyu to bring this to me. If there’s nothing else, leave._

“感谢公子！公子的宽容小人永不忘,” his mentor declares, bowing again. This time Mingyu is smart and just bows along, avoiding the chef’s heavy hand. _Thank you, your highness! This subject will never forget your highness’ kindness!_

“珉奎,” the boy says, and at the sound of his name, Mingyu looks up instinctively. “有时间来里宫玩.”

“Just nod and agree,” his mentor growls, and Mingyu does just that.

The boy tosses the persimmon and catches it, striding away. The boy and the man stare each other down for a little before the boy walks off with another casual bite. The line of soldiers part quickly and the boy disappears into the corridors.

“Mingyu,” the well-dressed man addresses in Korean. Surprised, Mingyu sits up to stare at the other. “If you’re ever free, His Royal Highness the Crowned Prince Xu Minghao invites you to play with him in the Inner Courts.”

“What?” Mingyu asks automatically. The Crowned— _who?_

“If the guards refuse to let you in, ask for the Court Minister Wen Junhui,” the well-dressed man continues. Junhui stares down at Mingyu with an amused smile. “How interesting. The Crowned Prince took a liking to you.”

And unknown to Junhui or Mingyu, this _liking_ will end up turning the entire palace upside down.

\---

end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trans:  
> “给我回来，小偷!” - come back here you thief!  
> “等着! 我抓到你的时候!” - just wait until i catch you!  
> “别跑! 你给我回来!” - don't run! come back here!  
> “大胆!” - how dare you!  
> “看你往哪里跑!” - where can you run now?  
> “珉奎, 有时间来里宫玩.” - Mingyu, if you have time, come to the Inner Courts to play.
> 
> ;;;; hella late update. LOL I have no excuse, I went to disneyland with jess yesterday and I totally didn’t think about this for the entire day until I got back LOL And then i had to deal with an insurance claim before i could write .-. This is what happens when i go out for fun, i come back to work and errands to run at night *sighs* 
> 
> Sorry guys!!! I'm hopefully going to keep the next updates consistent ^^ (altho i'm heading to china so that...may not be realistic ;;)
> 
> random aside (i wrote that ^ a/n last night and then passed out >__<) LOL so I forgot I had to go out early this morning to pick people up, got into a car accident on the freeway and now guess who's now holed up at home and not leaving the house? :D I'm an anxious person who's not good at dealing with people who demand police reports rather than just exchanging information. the officer was nice but i was just so scared of the other person 'cause they were "oh i don't believe her! she's not giving me her REAL insurance information! she's not going to be responsible because i know girls like her will cheat me!! >:(" so instead of doing anything today, imma stay at home and write gyuhao fics LOL ;;; i'm still shaking lol


	13. Assignment: Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Alien AU] Kim Mingyu is an alien trying to hide his not-so-human tendencies, and he's crushing on his human roommate, Xu Minghao.

**Assignment: Earth**

\---

His name is Kim Mingyu. He’s nineteen and just started at Pledis University. He comes from Anyang, Gyeong-gi. He has a mother, a father, a grandmother and a younger sister. And he enjoys cooking.

There was only one truth in that entire introduction: he enjoys cooking.

His name was not actually Kim Mingyu—he will spare everyone the trouble of trying to pronounce it. Human tongues cannot form the sounds. In his human suit, he’s tried. It doesn’t work.

He is definitely _not_ nineteen in the years humans counted, and this is actually his third year at Pledis University. He insists it wasn’t his fault for forgetting that humans could not withstand a moving truck—his sponsor stared at him in disbelief, _how do you fucking_ forget _not to step in front of a moving vehicle?_ At this point, it would be redundant to say how everything else was wrong; he’s not from Anyang, he doesn’t have a family unit here on Earth, etc.

Kim Mingyu—although that isn’t actually his name—is an alien from a planet approximately 3.483 light years away, and he loves it here on Earth.

On his home planet, there is no concept of scent—or rather there’s nothing to smell. His sponsor had warned him about a possible sensory overload, making him more prone to allergies. But rather than disliking it, Mingyu _loves it_.

He loves the scent of air after a summer shower, the scent of cut-grass, flowers in full bloom, and all the pleasant smells humans also enjoy. But Mingyu, also just loves things that had scent regardless, if it’s hot asphalt, body odor, or even caustic chemicals.

Along the way, he’s learned that his human suit doesn’t enjoy it as much as he does.

In his three years of sniffing through planet Earth, Mingyu has learned that he loves the smell of _food_ the most. When raw meat grills to a crispy brown, Mingyu swears that his scent glands partake in an almost a religious experience. airing that with his human’s association of smell and taste, Mingyu is in heaven at every meal.

Therefore, no one was that surprised when he started cooking; although, many of his human friends had been surprised when he was actually _good_ at it.

Mingyu has a good nose and he uses it. He can literally tell from the smell when meats are medium rare or when ramen noodles are _al dente_. When the humans ask, the alien bullshits from what he’s heard Gordon Ramsay say on the food channel— _with meat it’s the touch of firmness_ or _when you see the noodles hang on the chopsticks_.

With his impressive culinary abilities and handsome human suit, Mingyu has managed to keep the humans quiet about his, well, quirks. And this becomes very important when living with three clueless humans.

While he would have preferred to live alone, Mingyu understands that a completely new human suit made any other luxury a stretch. And honestly, he’s too embarrassed to ask his sponsor for anything more. No one has ever destroyed a human suit in a short two and a half years.

He adjusts the best he can, and lets his handsome face do the rest of the distracting. Although sometimes, it’s not enough.

“Myungho, is he sniffing flour or cocaine?” Soonyoung asks in disbelief.

“Probably powdered sugar,” Myungho says dryly. “Would explain the stupid smile.”

Mingyu stands straight up immediately, leaning away from the kitchen counter and clearing his throat casually. Grabbing a wet cloth, Mingyu wipes the counter with forced laughter.

“Oh no! How could I have spilled it?” Mingyu says loudly and nervously. He hadn’t heard his roommate and his friend come in. He turns toward the kitchen doorway and pretends to be surprised. “Oh hey, uh, Myungho, Soonyoung-hyung, you guys are—uh, here.”

“He was smelling salt.”

Mingyu flinches. He had not seen his other roommate in the living room. Great, now two of his roommates think he’s weird.

“Oh my god, Jeon Wonwoo, turn on a light for goodness sakes!” Soonyoung yells, equally surprised at the voice coming from the dark room. Soonyoung slaps the light switch with unnecessary force. “What are you a vampire?”

Soonyoung yelps and Mingyu actually jumps. Apparently, Wonwoo had not been the only silent shadow in the dark. Junhui’s sitting on the bean bag, staring at Mingyu with large unblinking eyes.

“It’s peaceful,” Wonwoo says, lying on the couch with an open book in his lap. “And I can’t see your face in the dark so that’s another plus.”

“We’re in the light and _you_ are the one sulking in the dark,” Soonyoung retorts. “You should be able to see us but we are the ones who can’t see you! And you, Moon Junhui, what are you—?”

“You shouldn’t be smelling salt,” Junhui says quietly. Mingyu waits. He learns from experience that if Junhui is still staring at him, he isn’t done. “If it goes up your nose, it will hurt.”

Soonyoung deflates— _of course, why do I even ask?_ Junhui blinks at their guest with a smile.

“If you want, we can go to your apartment,” Myungho shrugs.

“No!” Mingyu yells, and everyone turns to him. “I—I’m done smelling salt. I’m going to—”

“Go down his spice rack and savor the scent of nutmeg,” Wonwoo says wistfully, turning a page in his book.

“I was going to say that go back to my room,” Mingyu frowns. “Nutmeg? That’s far from my favorite scent.”

“Black peppercorns are his favorite,” Myungho interjects, throwing his backpack next to the bean bag. Mingyu tries to control his human suit from flushing. It’s a futile task. Myungho knows his favorite spice. _Myungho_ knows! “Alright Jun-hyung, you are now in our project group because we live together and it’ll be easier that way.”

Junhui turns his unblinking eyes towards Myungho. His lower eyelid twitches a little, but Mingyu doesn’t know if that’s an answer or just a muscle spasm.

“I’m going to retreat into my vampire den,” Wonwoo snickers, closing his book with a flick of his hand. He rolls up onto his feet and walks swiftly to his dark room. “Don’t disturb my dark sleep.”

“Hey, but no seriously Wonwoo,” Soonyoung calls. “Turn on a light when you read. You’ll ruin your eyesight.”

“I thought you were the one who said I looked good in glasses,” Wonwoo says, closing his door with a smirk.

“I hope you go blind!” Soonyoung yells at the now closed door. He tosses his own bag on the couch and collapses against it. “Myungho, why is he like this?”

“Pulling pigtails,” Myungho says with a sly smile. He pulls out a stack of papers from his backpack and hands them to Junhui. “Alright, so this is the outline of our project. I’m going to change really quickly.”

Mingyu tenses and watches Myungho disappear into his room. Oh, here it comes. He fumbles around in the kitchen, rearranging his spice rack and wiping the counters. Mingyu will go back to his room, but first—ah, Mingyu breathes in deeply as quietly as possible.

His roommate stumbles out of his room, pulling a loose fitting hoodie over his head. Mingyu breathes out and breathes in again, holding it to let the particles diffuse through the sensory module.

Myungho has a scent—Mingyu’s not sure how to describe it. The human smells of laundry detergent, dust, sweat and _something else._ It sounds cheesy, but Myungho smelled like the first relaxed breath of cold air after a long hike to the top of a mountain. This is what Mingyu imagines if the sense of smell could have a scent—something clean and sharp and just _airy_.

“You should breathe out,” Junhui says. Mingyu looks up and those eyes are on him again. Junhui’s right upper eyelid twitches this time. “You stopped breathing for a good minute.”

“Let him savor his salt in peace,” Myungho says, walking towards the kitchen.

Mingyu grips the edge of the kitchen counter and tries to avoid smiling. It’s still a futile task. Myungho brushes past him to grab a clean glass of the drying rack and squeezes past him again to get to the fridge. Mingyu discretely breathes in each time the other passes, catching stronger whiffs of that distinct Myungho smell. He closes his eyes and savors his favorite scent.

“You really aren’t breathing,” Myungho comments.

His roommate’s voice is suddenly too close, and Mingyu turns to see Myungho next to him casually leaning against the kitchen counter and drinking from his cup. Sufficiently startled, Mingyu sputters, and his human suit chokes on the saliva.

“I thought you were the one who said to let him savor his salt in peace,” Soonyoung laughs from the couch. He watches the scene unfold in the kitchen with amusement—Mingyu coughing up a storm and Myungho whacking him on the back. “I don’t think that’s going to help him Myungho. There’s nothing in his airway.”

“Air is in his airways,” comes Junhui’s untimely comment. And to be fair, Junhui is correct.

“You alright?” Myungho asks in obvious concern.

Mingyu tries to say something in response, but he’s never had Myungho so _close_ and wow, he smells even _better_ —and is that Myungho’s hand rubbing his back? Where is the other hand—and the other is rubbing his arm. Wow.

Wow.

“He’s smiling stupidly,” Myungho sighs, patting Mingyu’s back a couple times. His roommate lets his other hand slowly slide down Mingyu’s arm and moves to grab his cup. “He’s fine.”

“Myungho, you smell nice!” Mingyu blurts out. Myungho looks at him, and it’s eerily similar to Junhui’s stare. “Um, what I mean is—”

“Your shirt feels nice too,” Myungho says quietly. He smiles like there’s an inside joke Mingyu’s not privy to. “Go back to your spice rack. Just don’t pour it out. You can use that for cooking you know?”

“Okay,” Mingyu nods. He refrains from mentioning that he may or may not have a spice rack just to sniff at—and another spice rack for use.

If Mingyu spends the next couple hours feeling up his shirt, no one mentions anything.

“If Soonyoung and Wonwoo are pulling pigtails,” Junhui says into the empty living room quite a few hours later. “Does it mean Myungho and Mingyu are braiding each other’s hair?”

Junhui’s left eye half blinks a couple of times and he smiles.

\---

His name is Seo Myungho. He’s nineteen and a sophomore at Pledis University. He came from Anshan, Liaoning, China. He has a mother, a father and no siblings. He dislikes overly affectionate touches, and barely tolerates his spice sniffing, night crawling, and eye twitching roommates. And he is an alien.

There is only one truth in that entire introduction.

\---

[continue with Assignment: Earth . . . ?]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoh, this was so fun but so hard to write. 
> 
> Here was the original prompt (courtesy of writing-prompt-s on tumblr): Four roommates are extraterrestrials who have taken human form in the hopes of learning about Earth’s culture. Unfortunately, each alien is from a different planet and believes the other three are normal humans.
> 
> Background (there are literally my un-edited writing notes LOL):  
> * MINGYU comes from a planet with very little smell so he loves cooking because of all the rich aromas, sometimes just sniffs spices “is he sniffing flour or cocaine?” “I think that’s salt.”  
> * MINGHAO comes from a planet made of mostly different densities of gases (and he’s also really a ball of gaseous material held together by various bonds) so he loves touching things ‘cause gases don’t really touch the same way, loves aerial movement or just fast things ‘cause he likes the feeling of wind through his hair  
> * WONWOO comes from a planet far away from any sun so he’s not used to having bright lights, he’s not used to written language and he’s fascinated by it (always reading, but not exactly reading as much as just looking) (then got distracted by games because woah, lights move)  
> * JUNHUI comes from a planet in which no one spoke outloud and communication was through eye movements (their species has huge ass eyes), spent a good twenty minutes staring at mingyu to try and say something, but obviously that doesn’t work, gets super excited to talk sometimes and has the weirdest jokes because he probably said half of it through eye motions that no one can understand


	14. The Corpse Herder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [僵尸 Chinese Zombie AU] Xu Minghao is a corpse herder who is tasked with transporting the body of Kim Mingyu from Beijing, China to Hanyang, Joseon. At least after rigor mortis, Mingyu can walk on his own. Minghao wasn't about to carry the corpse all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jiang shi – Chinese hopping vampire/zombies  
> Men kan – it’s basically a tall piece of wood on the bottom of a door frame ‘cause I guess supposedly jiang shi couldn’t hop over it LOL and it’s a feng shui thing  
> Feng shui – unofficial definition from Liz (pls don’t quote or get offended): basically a system of orienting things to increase good luck/fortune and decrease misfortune, directions are important, where your doors face is important

**The Corpse Herder**

\---

“Remember don’t let the bamboo sheet fall off. I can’t be in the sun during the noon hours. Move me, if I’m—”

Minghao nods along, only half listening to the extensive list of requests. Sitting on a large rock, Minghao casts a quick glance at their surroundings. The tall, wide pines shade the forest floor well, and while the trees are surprisingly spaced out, there is hardly any undergrowth. It didn’t take Minghao too long to sweep away the sparse collection of vines and small shrubs. Unlike in the humid forests down south, the air is cool, crisp and even a little icy. The further up north they travel, they find chillier air that assaults them from all fronts.

“—and _please_ don’t let insects or rats chew on me.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Minghao insists. He jumps off his seat and walks over to pat the other’s make-shift bed. “You even elevated yourself. Nothing’s going to chew on you.”

“You don’t have a good track record Xu Minghao,” the other stares at him with dead eyes.

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to release the spell and you can rest on the dirt floor with all the fungus and bacteria and—” Minghao begins, reaching out to snatch the talisman on the other’s forehead.

“Okay! I get it!” the other scrambles onto the elevated bed and pulls the bamboo sheet over his head. Minghao resists chuckling as the other keeps talking through the covering. “And be sure to—”

Minghao rolls his eyes, reaches underneath the sheet and pulls off the talisman. The body underneath the covering suddenly goes slack—like all signs of life disappeared. Just to make sure, Minghao lifts the covering to check. Yep, Kim Mingyu is dead as any corpse should be.

“Sleep well,” Minghao says, not that the corpse could hear him. Mingyu soul has gone to rest, and Minghao will not call upon him until the sun sets. He shuts those glossy eyes and closes the other’s half open mouth. Pulling the bamboo sheet over Mingyu’s head again, Minghao returns to his seat upon the boulder.

His stomach growls uncomfortably. While Mingyu no longer needed sustenance, Minghao is still very much restricted by human needs. Rummaging in his pack for his usual meal of dried bread, Minghao pulls out a package wrapped in bamboo leaves.

Bewildered, Minghao unwraps the leaves and reveals a hard tack sandwich. Minghao peers in between the bread pieces and admires the chunk of roasted fish and edible plants. It had to be Mingyu’s handiwork. For a corpse, Mingyu is rather nimble, setting up small traps and scavenging for vegetation, but then again, he’s already finished his rigor mortis phase.

 _Eat it before it goes bad_ is written on the inside of the leaves, and the handwriting is almost textbook perfect. Just as required for court officials. Minghao is only admiring the other’s words for their technical precision and not because they tickle his heart. He feels nothing for a corpse. There’s no point.

Minghao takes a vicious bite of the sandwich and swallows it with the warm affection bubbling in his chest. He has been in this business for too long to harbor good feelings towards dead people.

Xu Minghao is a corpse herder—the eighth generation of Northern Chinese corpse herders to be exact, and Kim Mingyu is just a corpse he was transporting from Beijing to Hanyang. But some days...he wonders.

“What if we met when you were alive?” Minghao asks out loud.

He waits as though he’ll hear a response. As though Mingyu would suddenly pop up from under the bamboo sheet and—he takes another bite and chews and chews and chews. Minghao doesn’t bother taking smaller bites or wiping his mouth.

There is no one to alive to see him eating his feelings away.

\---

(The truth: They did meet once when Mingyu was alive.

Mingyu had just arrived in Beijing that summer night and watched curiously at the flickering light walking towards him. Ringing a small bell, a young man carried a lantern in front of him while a heavily cloaked figure hobbled behind him. His companion quickly told him to look away— _a corpse herder, cursed folk who animate dead bodies_. But Mingyu had never been good at following directions.

He smiled at the slim figure who walked towards them. The corpse herder looked at him with a bit of surprise, and Mingyu even called out a greeting, enjoying the bewildered expression on the other’s face.

Mingyu flinched at the smell of rotting flesh, and he swore he heard a small chuckle from—ah, but what does it matter? They passed each other as strangers, not knowing that their paths would cross again.

This was not the answer Minghao was looking for.)

\---

“Did you not sleep during the day?”

Mingho almost drops his pack in surprise. He’s spent so many years alone on the road with dead bodies that he doesn’t know how to respond to such questions— _are you feeling alright, have you eaten, did you sleep?_ So Minghao ignores it.

“I’m the corpse, but _you_ look dead on your feet,” Mingyu says. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Pack up and let’s go,” Minghao says instead. “We’re heading into town in the morning.”

“I thought _jiang shi_ couldn’t go into the city,” Mingyu says in surprise. “Isn’t that why people have tall _men kan_? To prevent us from going in?”

“ _Feng shui_ has it’s uses,” Minghao smiles. “But not for that.”

“But why are we going into town all of a sudden?” Mingyu asks, and Minghao could already hear the four hundred questions behind that one. “I am a decaying corpse.”

“To confront your stalkers,” Minghao answers. He tosses a small metal badge at Mingyu. “I’d like to know why we have imperial soldiers following us.”

“Soldiers,” Mingyu echoes, inspecting the badge. “But I’m dead. What would the Court want with a dead man?”

“You sure talk a lot for a dead man,” Minghao says dryly, and he watches Mingyu’s eyes widen in realization. “You were poisoned, Kim Mingyu. Someone wanted you _dead_ , but here you are walking about and talking.”

“I—I don’t know what I could possibly know,” Mingyu admits, looking down at the dirt. “I was just a typical public servant.”

“And that is what I want to find out,” Minghao says.

 _I want to find out because that’s the only thing I can do_ , is what Minghao doesn’t say. _I will find your murderer and help you rest in peace._

\---

To be continued... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: so i'm going to be traveling out of the country, but I'll do my best to continue updating every day. If I can't, I will be back October 27 and I'll...mass upload LOL 
> 
> this is a part of a larger story! When I have time, I will go back and flesh this one out!!! 
> 
> Background-ish:  
> * Mingyu is a visiting scholar from HanYang (Joseon dynasty) who tested to become a public servant, Minghao is a corpse herder (Qing dynasty) ← around the…1700s-ish  
> * So uh, legend of jiang shi, the hopping vampire/zombie comes from the time (Qing dynasty) when people believed that to truly rest in peace, they needed to be buried in their hometown (technically it’s still a thing). And there’s even a saying for it! 千里行尸 – directly translates to transporting a corpse over approx. 500 km. There’s two suggest originations:  
> \--> the one peeps probably know best – Taoist priests reanimating corpses  
> \--> The other: so it was actually a job for people ‘corpse herders’ to transport corpses back to their hometown if they met an unfortunate accident/illness/whatnot. Why the hopping? Historians and records have suggested that people carry dead bodies upright with two sticks (like underneath the armpits) with people on each side. So when they transport them, the sticks bend up and down which consequently looks like the dead bodies are ‘hopping’. Why at night? Well…decaying dead bodies…
> 
> * Random pop culture note: They became very popular in Cantonese horror movies (horror comedy?? LOL sometimes I don’t know) in the 1980s?? don’t quote me on this, and there’s a lot of pop culture that influenced the jumping vampire/zombies with the talismans and in the Qing dynasty qi paos we see in cinema
> 
> Basically I mixed both :D  
> \-->Hao is not a Taoist priest, but he is a corpse herder  
> \--> Rigor mortis does not last forever :D and it takes a while time to walk from Beijing to Hanyang (u can google walking from Beijing, China to Seoul, South Korea)


	15. My I(m about to strangle you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soulmate AU no. 2] In which Minghao is upset at his soulmate and Mingyu helps smooth things over. (No, Minghao and Mingyu are not soulmates, but that does not mean they're not in love.)

**My I(m about to strangle you)**

\---

At the age of eighteen, Minghao saw his soulmate connection.

Instead of the typical red string tied onto a pinky, Minghao described it to the soulmate guru as a thick white band wrapped around his wrist.

“Oh, you two will have the strongest bond,” was the only thing the wise old woman said.

A young eighteen-year-old Minghao naively believed and waited in anticipation for his soulmate. They would have the strongest bond and understand each other and support each other and— _what fucking bullshit_.

“Wen Jun Hui, I do _not_ need you to hover over me like this,”  twenty-five-year-old Minghao hisses, pulling on his jacket with increasing aggression. His right hand would not go through the stupid sleeve, and if Junhui didn’t leave _this moment_ , Minghao is going to strangle his soulmate. “I’ve been dancing for more years than I’ve known you, and I do not need _you_ telling me what I can and cannot do!”

“Minghao, you know I’m just worried—”

“Yeah, worried about things you don’t need to be,” Minghao spits out. He finally gets his hands through the sleeve holes. The dancer grabs his phone and walks briskly to the door of the practice room. He throws off the other’s hand on his arm almost violently. “My ankle is fine and I don’t need this fucking”—he makes exaggerated air quotations—“soulmate hocus pocus right before the competition!”

“Hao, please, I just feel like you should maybe stay off your ankle for a little longer—”

“Please tell me when you got your doctor’s license?” Minghao mocks with an exaggerated sweep of his arms. He shakes his wrist so the white band only they can see, flutters between them. “Or did you _feel_ it through our bond?”

If he had been in the right state of mind, Minghao would have stopped talking right there. Even though their soulmate relationship had not developed romantically, Minghao is still very fond of Junhui. The older man has an exasperating sense of humor but has also proven to be a great source of comfort and a steadfast friend. Wen Junhui deserves more than the next words Minghao dishes at him.

“The only reason I meet with you is because my _boyfriend_ believes in this whole soulmates together is better bullshit.”

Which is wrong, totally and utterly wrong, and Minghao feels something like guilt prickle in the back of his mind. It prickles and tickles and spreads into his lungs, making each inhale more difficult than the last. He feels the start of an apology at the tip of his tongue, but Junhui beats him to it.

“Then go back to your boyfriend,” Junhui scoffs, and Minghao’s temper flares back up. “Forget the fact that I watched you hurt your ankle in the first place. Forget the fact that I practice with you every day for the same competition. Forget all that, and of course, I just _felt_ it through”—Junhui makes air quotes in the same mocking way Minghao did and suddenly the guilt is back—“a _bullshit_ bond.”

Minghao doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t. He just knows that he’s stressed and tired and cranky and frustrated and just done with unnecessary concern from soulmates who insist to know what’s best for him.

This time when Minghao stomps out the door, Junhui doesn’t stop him. It’s childish, but Minghao slams the door behind him.

\---

“Don’t you want to meet your soulmate?” Mingyu whined.

“No,” Minghao said resolutely.

“But they’re the ones who complete you!” Mingyu argued.

Minghao sighed. He really didn’t want to have this talk with Mingyu, _especially_ not during a date.

It had taken him a good two years to pluck the courage to ask his friend out. The idea that they weren’t soulmates weighed heavily on his mind for so long. His own parents were soulmates, and he grew up watching them seamlessly fit into one another. Even so, he had yet to meet someone else who made butterflies flutter in his chest and made the world tilt with every laugh and made the stars align just by existing—but Kim Mingyu was not his soulmate. He had spent long nights shaking his wrist, wondering who was on the other end of the thick white band, but eventually, Minghao said _fuck it_ and confessed.

“You complete me,” Minghao blurted out.

“I don’t complete you,” Mingyu laughed, and Minghao felt his chest deflate a little. Well, Minghao thought to himself, if that’s how Mingyu— “But I love you.”

Oh.

Mingyu choked halfway through a laugh, and Minghao watched for an amusing moment the panic spread through the other’s limbs. He let Mingyu fidget with the cup for a long moment and decided to ease his poor boyfriend’s mind, before the contents of said cup ended up on both their jackets.  

“I do too,” Minghao responded, and he tried not to tremble as Mingyu’s smile lit up the entire restaurant.

(It really was different.

When he met Junhui for the first time, Minghao felt a sense of calm like he knew the other would always be there. It felt like meeting an old friend for the nth time. There was still a wave of joy but mostly a steady sense of security.  

“I don’t love you,” were Minghao’s first words of greeting, and realizing how rude it must sound to a stranger, he struggled to find a proper explanation.

“I don’t either,” Junhui laughed. “That makes the two of us.”

Oh, that’s right, Junhui wasn’t a stranger. He was Minghao’s soulmate.)

\---

“Wen Junhui is cancelled.”

“Huh?” was Mingyu’s intelligent way of asking for clarification.

“He’s cancelled as my soulmate,” Minghao answers, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He hobbles into the living room and collapses face first into the couch with his legs dangling off the arm rest. His right ankle aches, but Minghao writes it off as fatigue. There is _nothing_ wrong with his ankles.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Mingyu says carefully. He rolls Minghao onto the couch and looks down at his boyfriend with a questioning gaze. “Did he exceed the joke quota today?”

“No,” Minghao mutters into his jacket sleeve. He curls up on the couch and ignores the pain in his right leg. He was fine. “He was just—he was just worrying over things he didn’t need to.”

“So he expressed his concern for you and you maturely informed him there was no need and thanked him for his concern,” Mingyu says deadpan. “But he was being overbearing and unreasonable, so you came to the logical and reasonable conclusion to sever ties with him forever.”

Minghao opens his mouth to retort, but the sarcasm is almost shaming. So he just retreats further into his jacket hood.

“Have you been taking care of yourself though?” Mingyu asks gently. He leans against the armrest and waits.

“No,” came Minghao’s quiet admission. If he’s honest, Minghao really hasn’t been.

The looming dance competition made everyone in the studio anxious. Everyone was putting in extra hours in the practice rooms and was in varying states of distress—Chan grew his first white hair, Soonyoung looked like death warmed over and Junhui even started breaking out! The man never breaks out in anything other than in nervous laughter. Minghao groans into the couch cushion. He hates that he knows that about Junhui.

“So your soulmate wasn’t wrong to be concerned,” Mingyu concludes, patting Minghao’s knee.

“Stop that,” Minghao says, turning towards his boyfriend with a frown.

“Stop telling you the truth?” Mingyu asks with a raised brow.

“No, stop with the soulmate this and soulmate that,” Minghao huffs, sitting up on the couch. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Mingyu frowns. “You two are soulmates for a reason.”

“Yeah? Well I didn’t end up dating him, did I?” Minghao retorts. “I don’t love him. I love _you_.”

“Romantic love isn’t always the end game,” Mingyu says. “I love you, but you also love him.”

“I don’t love him.”

“You _care_ for him,” Mingyu amends with an eye roll, and Minghao feels like a petulant child. “Just as I care for Jeonghan-hyung.”

“How much do you care for Jeonghan-hyung?” Minghao asks with a pout. Honestly, they’re both past the point of being jealous of each other’s soulmates, but today, Minghao just wants to argue. “How much do you love him?”

“I care for him as much as you care for Junhui-hyung,” Mingyu answers.

“Well, I don’t care for Wen Junhui,” Minghao says.

“Well, I guess I don’t care that much for Yoon Jeonghan,” Mingyu shrugs. Minghao feels another prickle of guilt.

Some say soulmates were two of a kind, and other say soulmates completed each other. While Mingyu and Jeonghan were vastly different people, it was obvious they cared and looked out for each other. Mingyu and Jeonghan definitely completed each other in a ying yang kind of way—what one lacked the other made up for.

“Don’t lie,” Minghao mutters, avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Right back at you,” Mingyu laughs. He leans in and tilts Minghao’s chin up for a kiss. Their lips meet briefly—once, twice and a third time. “But I’m glad I’m the one you _love_ love.”

“ _Love_ love?” Minghao snorts. He reaches out and tugs gently on the collar of Mingyu’s shirt. The taller man follows and falls onto him without much grace. “Heavy—!”

“Yep, _love_ love,” Mingyu smiles, snuggling into the crook of the other’s neck. Minghao weighs the pros and cons of struggling, but it felt nice. Mingyu’s crushing weight on his chest felt much better than guilt or regret.

“Hey Mingyu,” Minghao says quietly.

“Hm?”

“My ankle’s been bothering me,” he continues.  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Mingyu gasps, rolling off him immediately. Minghao lets his boyfriend fuss over him a little—poking and prodding his leg with worried _did I squish it, does it hurt, are you okay?_

“I want to get it checked out before the competition,” Minghao says.

“Let’s do that!” Mingyu agrees.

\---

(“Junhui, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“You got your ankle checked,” Junhui interrupts.

“Yeah, I did.”

“That’s good,” Junhui smiles, and Minghao shakes his head.

Oh, that’s right, Junhui wasn’t just anyone. He was Minghao’s soulmate.)

\---

**My I(m—)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: So internet will be spotty ;; I will still try to do 1 fic a day but the time i can upload is... LOL who knows? I may have to skip a couple days closer to the 20th cause of where I’ll be (in the middle of NOWHERE :D) 
> 
> LOL this ended up more junhao than gyuhao, but yeah, basically it’s based off that one quote that when u meet your soulmate/some who completes you, you feel a sense of calm instead of all the butterflies in your stomach and all the ways we say how we feel the nervousness of love. 
> 
> So yeah. Another soulmate au LOL.


	16. Stray Into My Heart (and Pants)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Hybrid AU] Mingyu isn't going home for the holidays. He misses Minghao terribly, but Minghao isn't a stray cat without reason.

**Stray Into My Heart (and Pants)**

\---

Kim Mingyu is a stressed college student. He’s also a stressed part-time convenience store worker, and a stressed volunteer at the hybrid adoption center.

Normally, around this time of year, Mingyu would be stress free and halfway home right on time for Chuseok. However, this year all of his exams somehow lined up right after the holidays.

Mingyu’s taking six classes this semester, and he’s looking at six exams after Chuseok.

So he called his mother two weeks ago and basically cried— _I’m going to fail my exams, I can’t come home, if I come home, I’ll be distracted and fail out of school and be homeless and freeze to death in Seoul with no one to identify my body_.

Mingyu’s not sure whether he was relieved or mortified that his younger sister had been the one who picked up.

“I’ll let mom know,” she had said after laughing at him for five minutes straight. “I’ll cut out all the exaggerated nonsense for you. She’ll understand, although grandma might not.”

In a stubborn attempt to seem responsible, Mingyu continues to pick up extra weekend shifts at the convenience store and to volunteer on the weekdays. His coworkers offer to cover him, but Mingyu stupidly refuses. The adoption center’s volunteer coordinator insists Mingyu use his time to study, but Mingyu insists otherwise.

It’s the weekend before Chuseok, and Mingyu is regretting everything.

He collapses onto his bed on his side, and stares numbly at the digital clock on his nightstand. It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and Mingyu has not started studying for today.

He doesn’t even have his roommates to complain to. Seungcheol was out with some people from his department, Wonwoo was at his boyfriend’s place, and Hansol was already home for the holidays. Soon, the apartment will just be Mingyu as everyone planned to go home in the next couple of days.

Mingyu flops onto his back and stares at his ceiling. Logic is telling him to eat a quick dinner and get cracking on those books. His heart is crying to book the next bus back to Anyang to spend it with his family and with Minghao.

Minghao.

Mingyu rolls over and faceplants into his pillow. Mingyu misses Minghao. He misses Minghao’s frustrated eye squints and eyebrow furrows. He misses Minghao’s twitchy ears and ever swishing tail. Mingyu misses taking naps in the living room and waking up to find Minghao curled up next to him—or more commonly, on top of him. He misses watching the cat hybrid stir from his nap, he misses kissing the hybrid’s forehead in greeting— _hi sleepy_ , he misses—Mingyu just misses Minghao.

A lot.

With their close relationship, some people mistaken the cat hybrid as a pet, but Mingyu will never adopt Minghao. Not that Minghao wants to be adopted either.

Minghao is what society likes to call _strays_. They were never properly inputted into the hybrid registry—usually the case with illegally smuggled hybrids, or those born from unlicensed breeding mills. Without proper registration, these hybrids are shuffled into a weird roundabout adoption process. While the stigma of an unadopted hybrid is slowly fading, it’s still present in a lot of laws and regulations— _hybrids are not humans and therefore cannot be expected to carry out human tasks without having some sort of insurance, such as an adoptive family._

Mingyu spends his days at the hybrid adoption center helping these hybrids and their adoptive family get through all the bureaucratic red tape. It’s a bullshit system, and Minghao reminds him of that all the time.

While Mingyu’s parents have offered to adopt Minghao, the stray cat had been both resolute and polite in turning them down.

“I like my freedom,” Minghao had explained to Mingyu later. “I like not needing a human to sign for everything I do. Yeah, there’s more paperwork, but it’s _mine_. Just like _you_.”

And Minghao had showed Mingyu _very_ thoroughly what being _mine_ meant.

Groaning, Mingyu flips onto his back again and closes his eyes to remember. He pulls his shirt up halfway and slowly trails his hands down his stomach, pinching his skin in a poor imitation of Minghao’s lips. The hybrid always liked to tease on his way down, pulling on the waist of Mingyu’s pants and planting little kisses on the barely exposed skin. It was always torture as Mingyu wanted to grind up into the other’s throat, but Minghao’s warning look kept his hips grounded and squirming sideways instead. Then Minghao would trail his large hands down and—

Feeling the heat build underneath his skin and blood pooling into his dick, Mingyu bites back a moan as his trembling fingers attempt to recreate that sensation. He’s not very good but the memories and the _images_ of Minghao in between his legs and rubbing the insides of his thigh with a definite smirk— _ah!_

Gasping, Mingyu swears he feels the bed dip like Minghao was there. Oh _fuck_ , he’s not sure what level of imagination he’s achieved, but it definitely felt like Minghao’s nose nuzzling against his stomach and his tongue licking a trail down to his bellybutton. Mingyu jerks in shock as his pretend Minghao palms his half-hard dick. His hands grab the other’s hair and— _grabs actual hair and ears_?

Mingyu opens his eyes and looks down at a very much present cat hybrid in between his spread thighs.

“ _Wharugabhekayermehere?!_ ”

Minghao reacts rather well to being pushed off the bed, rolling to his hands and knees gracefully. The cat hybrid crawls halfway back onto the bed and smiles widely with his tails swishing back and forth happily.

“Since you weren’t coming home for Chusoek, I decided to come visit you instead,” Minghao answers Mingyu’s jumbled question. It’s amazing he even got it. “One of your roommates let me in so I’ve just been lounging in your room waiting for you to come home.”

“And you didn’t decide to greet me once I got home?” Mingyu sputters with his knees to his chest, willing away his arousal. It’s hard when the very person of his masturbation fantasies is right there—ha, see what he did there? It’s hard? Okay, anyways. “You decided to _ambush me_.”

“And you say it like you didn’t enjoy that,” Minghao says, staring pointedly at Mingyu’s folded legs. “Why would you want to masturbate on your own when you have me?”

“Some _warning_ would've been nice!” Mingyu cries, flushing from his ears to his neck.

“I didn’t expect you to come home, roll around in bed and then whip out your dick,” Minghao reasons, and Mingyu chokes.

“I didn’t whip out my—that’s it! Out!” Mingyu yells. He scrambles off the bed and grabs Minghao’s shoulders. Turning the hybrid towards his bedroom door, Mingyu proceeds to push the cat hybrid out of his room. He shoves Minghao into the living room and points at the couch resolutely. “You’re sleeping out here tonight!”

“I came all the way from Anyang just to spend Chuseok with you because I thought you’d get lonely,” Minghao says quietly with his back facing Mingyu. The cat hybrid’s ears flatten against his hair, and the human swallows thickly. The guilt leaves an unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue. “And here you are, kicking me out like some common house pet.”

“Hao, I—I was just shocked,” Mingyu admits. He tentatively approaches Minghao and wraps his arms looks around the other’s waist, giving him the chance to escape. Minghao doesn’t, and Mingyu holds him closer. He’s well aware of his half-hard dick pressing against Minghao’s ass, but Mingyu ignores it as best he can. “I’m really, _really_ happy you’re here. I’m sorry that I overreacted and well, yeah, I love you.”

Minghao doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull away. Worried, Mingyu shifts so his chin is nuzzled into Minghao’s neck, and he hears the other growl—oh wait, that’s too soft and rhythmic for growling. Minghao’s _purring_?  

“I can tell you’re really, _really_ happy that I’m here,” Minghao teases, turning slightly. Mingyu sharply inhales when an appendage presses against his crotch. Oh yeah, Minghao has a tail. Ha ha, how could he forge— _oh okay,_ hi tail, time _out_! “Do you want to find out whether I’m really, _really_ happy about being here too?”

Oh.

Nevermind, no timeout! _No timeout!_

_\---_

(And they continue.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck just happened. Okay so i guess the more sleep deprived I am? The higher the ratings I’ll write? LOL like okay, this was...originally...NOT ANYTHING LIKE THIS. Even the story after the original was not like this. It was just mingyu missing minghao, realizing minghao came suddenly, getting mad, minghao pretending to be sad and then mingyu feelin’ guilty and then kiss and make out, yay! But suddenly i started writing mingyu...uh...asdfkl;sdklfj i blame minghao, when i wrote that “it’s mine, just like you” line, i just kinda was like “hahaha that would be a potential lead up to sexy time! :D hahahaha--*hands typing* WHAT IS GOING ON???”
> 
> There is something in the air over here (pollution probably) and either i need to breath a lot MORE of it or a lot LESS.


	17. 1.17 g/mL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Disease Outbreak AU] An unknown virus causes red blood cells to be unable to carry oxygen, effectively suffocating the infected person. There is no cure, and the only treatment is constant blood infusions. Mingyu is a nurse who works at a blood transfusion center, and Minghao is a donor who doesn't quite meet the requirements.

**1.17 g/mL**

\---

“You’re 70 kilograms?” Mingyu asks, staring down at his clipboard in confusion. He gives his blood donor a skeptical up-and-down—thin arms, thin legs, thin torso and not tall enough to make up the weight. Mingyu’s worked long enough to eyeball people’s weights, and this man is _not_ 70 kg no matter which way Mingyu looked. “Get back on the scale.”

“I’ve been here for the past year,” the blood donor says stubbornly, crossing his thin arms. “I’ve given blood with no issue.”

“Well, you might have been 70 kilograms a year ago,” Mingyu says with his best customer service voice. He even gives his cheeriest fake smile. “But we need to reassess that. It’s for your own safety as a long-term blood donor!”

Kim Mingyu is a nurse at one of the largest blood transfusion centers in the country so he’s seen all kinds of deceptions attempted in the name of desperation. Ever since the outbreak, the entire world has been in a state of panic and rightfully so.

While epidemiologists point at some rainforest monkeys, no one is too sure where this virus came from—conspiracy theorists are sure it’s all a splotched government attempt to make biological weapons. It seemed to have started somewhere in the Amazons and spread upwards through Central America into North America.

This virus presents almost sickle cell anemia on steroids. There are two major differences: one, it can be transmitted through body fluids; and two, the red blood cells don’t change shape.

Once it gets into the body, the virus penetrates red blood cells and binds to hemoglobin, changing the structure of the proteins. With the change, hemoglobin can no longer take up oxygen, and once all healthy red blood cells are overtaken, these abnormal oxygen-deprived cells slowly suffocate a person from the inside out.

The scary part is how quickly and silently the virus spreads. It takes about the lifetime of a red blood cell—around 120 days—for the virus to infect all the cells. And the first symptoms are general fatigue. During the fall to winter season when the outbreak began, most patients thought it was merely the cold or flu and neglected to get it seen—until it was too late.

The first wave died in the thousands. No one knew why this was happening or how to treat it. 120 days was not enough to save the first of the infected, and while some hospitals figured out rather quickly that blood transfusions were the only way to go, there was such a limited supply of blood.    

Ironically, the first known infected patient in South Korea was due to a blood infusion. Now, blood infusions are the only way for patients to stay alive.

Six years ago, Mingyu had been tallying up _milliliters_ of donated blood in the back of tiny blood collection van. Now, Mingyu is sorting through _liters_. Hundreds and thousands of _liters_ of blood.

And he’s seen his fair share of issues—such as underweight family or friends who try to become blood donors.

“I’ve never had an issue like this before,” his blood donor protests, refusing to move from his spot. “My red blood cell counts are good, and I’m in perfectly good shape.”

Mingyu looks around at the thankfully empty corridors before returning his gaze to the donor. He takes a quick glance at the other’s paperwork— _Seo Myungho, 27, male, sole blood donor for Wen Junhui_ —and flashes a polite smile.

“Myungho-ssi, I am here to help you,” Mingyu says gently while internally rolling his eyes. He doesn’t understand why patients and donors think he’s out to get them. The word _sole_ is always a red flag, and Mingyu is just trying to protect these donors who carry the life of a patient on their own. In fact, most hospitals refuse collect blood from sole donors.

Normal blood donations are around 450 mL, or one unit, and take around ten to fifteen minutes. Sole donors, however, need to donate around 3 _liters_ , or six units! The process is almost twenty times as long. It’s _dangerous_ to be donating that much—which is why the requirements to be a sole donor are extensive and require constant check-up.

“If you’re really helping, you will just let me get my blood collected and we can all continue with our days,” Myungho argues with a deep scowl and furrowed brows. His dark eye bags and shallow cheeks enhance his look of anger, but they also increase Mingyu’s concern. “Junhui needs his next transfusion next week, and I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult.”

“Myungho-ssi, I’m going to be honest with you,” the nurse begins. He fixes the drooping side of his smile. Mingyu wants to just shake the man— _if you die, then who will take care of your friend?_ “If you pass out during the blood collection process, we are mandated to stop collecting. If the amount is not sufficient, we either let it go to waste or transfuse whatever we can until we can get another blood donor—”

“He can’t have another blood donor,” Myungho interrupts angrily. He unfolds his arms and clenches his fists. Mingyu looks wearily at the agitated blood donor—Myungho looks about ready to deck him in the face. “If you looked at the papers, you’d see why I’m his—fuck it, you know what? Just give me the papers and I’ll go find another nurse, fuck, I’ll go find a different hospital—”

“Myungho-ssi, I want to help you,” Mingyu tries to reason calmly, holding the clipboard behind his back. He’s never been attacked at the hospital, but Mingyu knows colleagues who aren’t as lucky. Working at a blood donation center can be dangerous with infected patients and emotional family, but he knows the risk. Mingyu has dedicated his life to helping those in need, and while he’s a little annoyed, Mingyu is more worried for the thin man and his health. “I just need you to get on the scale—”

“ _I’m underweight, okay_?”

Mingyu quiets at the outburst. He watches and waits as the other struggles with his words. Myungho opens his mouth and then closes it again and again until his lips are trembling. The donor looks down at the floor, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. Mingyu waits and listens to the man take slow breaths— _inhale, one, two, three, exhale, four, five, six_ , Myungho mutters under his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mingyu spots his coworker down the hall and gives a quick shake of his head at the other’s questioning look— _not now Seungkwan, I got this_. The other nurse nods and points at himself— _just let me know_. Giving the younger nurse a smile, Mingyu returns his attention to his blood donor.

“I’m underweight,” Myungho repeats, exhaling. Mingyu watches as the stiffness disappears from the other’s shoulders, and Myungho stares down at the floor defeated. “I can’t put on weight. I’ve been to the dietitian, to the gym. I tried just eating badly and—I just _can’t_.”

Mingyu keeps his jaw shut and waits. A younger Mingyu might have started recommending diets and various potential solutions, but an older and wiser Mingyu knows better. Sometimes, caretakers just need to unload. They’ve been so strong for so long, and sometimes, they just need someone to listen. And if that someone is Mingyu, he’s honored to be there for them.

“I can’t—I just can’t make the weight goal,” Myungho continues, bringing his hands in front of him and picking at his fingernails. The man tucks his chin down even more, hiding his face, but the sniffling and the hasty wipe of his eyes fail to hide his tears. “I barely have time to eat as is and I know and your director knows and—ah, I should have just gone to Jisoo-hyung.”

Mingyu waits. He thinks the other’s done, but he stays quiet just to make sure.

“Sorry, that’s right,” Myungho laughs with a thin voice. Clearing his throat, Myungho looks up with a lopsided smile and then looks back down when it doesn’t hold. “I’ve never gone through the normal donor route. I should have just—ah, I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry that you, uh, that you had to listen to that, yeah.”

“I’m trying to take care of _your_ health,” Mingyu says firmly. “When was the last time you took time to take care of _you_?”

“I understand,” Myungho says, and Mingyu can’t make out the other’s expression. “I—ah, thank you. I just don’t have time.”

“Myungho-ssi, if you—” Mingyu begins.

“Myungho! I thought I saw you come in!”

They both turn to the newcomer, and the director Dr. Hong Jisoo strides down the hallway in a simple button up and slacks. If it weren’t for the stethoscope hanging around his neck, it would have been easy to mistake the young doctor for a visiting relative.

“I waited in my office for a long time and then wondered whether I got your collection date wrong,” Jisoo says with a gentle smile. “I’m glad I decided to come out and stretch my legs. I see you’ve met our nurse, Mingyu-ssi.”

“Ah, yes, Dr. Hong—I mean, Jisoo-hyung,” Myungho corrects himself at the other’s mock annoyed look. “I meant to go up to your office but I got, well, distracted.”

“That’s fine! Everyone gets distracted sometimes. After all, our Mingyu is quite a handsome kid,” Jisoo laughs. Myungho gives Jisoo a bewildered look, _did you just imply that I_ — _?_ Mingyu chuckles and quickly stops when Myungho turns that offended eye on him.

The sudden mood change is jarring but not unwelcome. Mingyu smiles brightly at the donor and his smile grows wider when Myungho grins back in exasperation. They stand there smiling at each other stupidly— _don’t you dare laugh, wouldn’t dare, I see that lip tremble, oh yeah?_ And while they didn’t exchange any words, Mingyu swears he feels something fond bubbling in his chest.

“Unfortunately, I do have a meeting in two hours,” Jisoo says apologetically. Mingyu and Myungho turn to the doctor quickly. Both glancing down in embarrassment. “But if you two would like to meet later…”

“Oh no, uh—” Myungho sputters, putting his hands out and shaking them frantically.

“Oh that’s right!” Jisoo exclaims, clapping happily. “I forgot! Seungcheol isn’t here today so I was looking for a nurse to supervise your collection.”

The nurse stares at the doctor with a raised eyebrow. Mingyu just saw Seungcheol, and the older man is merely taking his lunch in the breakroom. But before Mingyu could make a comment, Jisoo winks at the nurse purposefully.

“Mingyu, if I remember correctly, you have time,” Jisoo says, smiling at the nurse, and Mingyu wonders if he’s imagining heavy, threatening aura. “You’ll have time to watch over his collection right? Just keep Myungho company!”

“Of course,” Mingyu agrees quickly.

“Perfect! Just follow me!” Jisoo says cheerfully, turning away to stride down the hall again.  

Mingyu and Myungho share a look— _sorry, you were forced into this_. Mingyu shrugs— _nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind._ They start walking quietly behind the doctor, sneaking each other glances and looking away in embarrassment.

“So...how long have you been working here?” Myungho asks.

“Well—”

\---

(“I like Mingyu,” Junhui says, fiddling with the white linens of his hospital gown.

“You like everyone,” Jihoon responds with a pointed look. He goes back to peeling the apple, muttering curses underneath his breath at the large chunks of fruit he accidentally cut off.  “That doesn’t mean much.”

“Minghao smiles more now,” Junhui says, turning to Jihoon with a wide grin.

“He always smiles when he comes to see you,” Jihoon says, digging the knife into the apple a little harder. Minghao always walks in with the brightest smile and the darkest eye bags. The younger is always trying so hard to not let Junhui worry. Minghao tries to hide his increasingly thinning frame with oversized shirts and large jackets, but they only make him look smaller and sicker.

Jihoon grips the apple harder. If only he could become a blood donor, if only Junhui didn’t have this _weird_ strain, if only he could do _something_ —

“Stop that,” Junhui chides, smacking Jihoon’s hand lightly. He pries the half peeled apple out of Jihoon’s tense fingers. “You’re going to hurt the apple with the way you’re holding it.”

“As though your teeth tearing through it isn’t going to hurt,” Jihoon says. He tries to laugh, but it gets caught in his throat. Why is he so helpless? His own lover is dying before his eyes and he—

“Release!” Junhui yells suddenly, poking in between Jihoon’s eyebrows. Startled, Jihoon releases his furrowed brows and blinks at the other man. Junhui lifts his finger and then moves down to poke Jihoon’s cheek. “I can hear you thinking, and you do enough. More than enough.”

“I wish—” Jihoon starts, but he can’t continue. He wishes for a lot of things, but he’s a practical man. The reality is that Junhui is dying. If the clinical trial drugs don’t work out, Junhui will not survive past the year.

“I wish for Minghao to be happy,” Junhui says, tapping the other’s cheek. “And I think Mingyu makes him happy.”

“What about you?” Jihoon asks. He grips the knife handle tightly and looks down at his clenched fists. “What make you happy?”

“You,” Junhui says simply. Jihoon looks up just in time to see that beautiful face frown. “I’m just sorry that—”

“You also make me happy,” Jihoon interrupts. He’s never been good at emotional declarations, but he refuses to regret it later. There might not be too much time left, and Jihoon doesn’t ever want Junhui to doubt. “So don’t ever apologize.”

“I love you,” Junhui says sadly.

“Just eat your apple,” Jihoon scowls, leaning over to grab the apple and shoving it in Junhui’s face.

“Romantic,” Junhui laughs, taking a large bite. They both ignore the steady drip of Minghao’s blood, hanging on the IV pole.)

\---

One day, it will all end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, so if I continue this, jun dies .-. fuck. Anyways, so uh, ignore the wrong medical treatments LOL also collecting 3 liters of blood is like...killing a person LOL (but i wasn't thinking that far in advance and honestly its for the drama, i will make it more realistic if i expand on this) tbh in six years, they’ll probably streamline a drug to help prevent the virus from entering the RBCs (like a fusion inhibitor? or some shit like that) but I MEAN JUST TAKE IT AS THE FICTION IT IS. If I decide to expand on this (and kill jun ;;A;;) I’ll probably put more thought into this fictional disease and develop treatments/support regimens etc. 
> 
> Random note: so jun's virus thing is that he cannot take blood from anyone else than minghao or else it causes an autoimmune response and kills him (think killer peanut allergy) there's more about this and why it has to be minghao but yeah LOL if i don't end up writing it in half a year, feel free to ask.
> 
> I dunno if anyone got this, but 1.17 g/mL is thicker than blood (and minghao's birthday LOL) :D LOL the density of blood is around 1.04 g/mL-ish?? Its not that much denser than water HAHAHA Anyways, imma just stop. 
> 
> I'm probably going to be able to upload normally tomorrow but then be on like a 4-5 days hiatus (10/19-10/23) as I travel into no internet land ;;;; Thanks for being so patient friends <3 I love and appreciate every single one of you guys who've stopped by to read and/or commented!!! <3


	18. Helpful Haunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Ghost AU] Mingyu and Minghao are helpful ghosts, haunting Wonwoo's apartment.

**Helpful Haunts**

\---

_So why are we folding his clothes again?_ Minghao asks with a frown, but he still obediently takes the given folded shirts and stacks neatly into a pile.

_Because I refuse for him to live in our apartment like a pig_ , Mingyu answers, smoothing out the creases on the shirt before folding them with practiced ease.

Minghao bites back a laugh. He’s seen Mingyu do some pretty strange things, but the past couple of months have been stranger than strange. Currently, they are sitting—well, as much as ghosts could—in the living room with Mingyu folding clothes and Minghao grouping them. The hilarious part is probably the fact both of them are wearing kitchen gloves—Mingyu’s wearing the rubber ones for washing dishes and Minghao’s sporting oven mitts.

Even when they were alive, Minghao doesn’t think they’ve ever looked so ridiculous.

_This hyung goes to class, goes to work and then comes home_ , Mingyu rants, pulling out the last of the shirts from the laundry bin. _He just eats take out, sits at home with a book or on his phone and then doesn’t move for_ hours _._

_How is that living like a pig?_ Minghao asks dryly. They are almost done with the shirts. Minghao glances at the piles—underwear, sweaters, jackets, pants, shirts, ah, the last group is socks. _He’s probably been the least problematic of our tenants._

_He. Doesn’t. Take. Care. Of. Himself!_ Mingyu says angrily, punctuating each word with a dramatic sweep to dust off nonexistent lint. _He’s alive and he doesn’t take care of himself! He doesn’t fold his clothes or clean the rooms or cook for himself—_ oh _, we should make him dinner!_

Minghao only nods. He looks around the living room and tries to remember when they were alive. They hadn’t been the most responsible young men either, having caused mishaps everywhere in the apartment.

Twenty-three years ago, Minghao met Mingyu when they were both freshmen in college. They became fast friends and later on, much to their friends’ delight, boyfriends. It felt like a no-brainer to move in together their junior year, and they found this small but cozy apartment to call home.

And even today, a lot of the things they used back then are still present.

They had bought the lumpy, faded couch together from an upperclassman who swore no funny business happened on it—he lied. They had carried the refrigerator up to their fourth floor apartment and chipped a corner on the door frame—both the fridge and the door frame still carry the battle scars. They had purchased an entire set of kitchenware online and laughed for days when the supposed dark blue plastic ended up being pastel pink—Mingyu wrote a long ranting review about incorrect product description but they’re still there.

It’s weird looking at their old things and seeing their current tenant, a college kid named Jeon Wonwoo, use them without any thought of the history.

Minghao stifles a giggle.

Wonwoo isn’t a bad kid. He’s quiet and lives like any twenty-something year old kid would—eating cheap convenience store food and pulling clothes from the clean laundry bin directly. Wonwoo doesn’t live like a pig. Mingyu is just very tidy, much like Minghao himself. Unlike his boyfriend, Minghao doesn’t hold Wonwoo to their standards.

_Thank goodness for straight to home deliveries_ , Mingyu says happily, drifting to the dining room. Using his rubber glove clad hands, Mingyu opens up the laptop their young tenant forgot. With a couple clicks and furious typing, the other closes the laptop with a satisfied smile. _I’m going to make him an actual meal_.

_It’s Thursday, so he’ll be at work until seven_ , Minghao calls from the living room. Mingyu drifts back and starts rolling the socks. They work together in relative silence before finishing up and high-fiving each other. Mingyu grabs the pile of shirts to take back into Wonwoo’s room. _Be sure to only take a few at a time or else_ —

_Ah fuck_ , Mingyu groans with empty gloves. Minghao rolls his eyes and bends over to pick up the fallen shirts. The other ghost habitually leaned the tower of shirts against his chest and the clothes fell through his astral body.

_I told you_ , Minghao chides. He starts stacks together around five to six shirts and then places them in Mingyu’s outstretched hands. _Don’t take too much. We can’t actually touch his things_.

_I know, I know_ , Mingyu pouts, securing the shirts in his gloved hands. The ends of the shirts fall though Mingyu’s forearm where the gloves end. _We can only touch whatever we have touched when we were alive, blah blah blah blah._

_And you’d think you would be more careful knowing that_ , Minghao teases. He grabs the other stack of shirts and follows Mingyu into their—no, Wonwoo’s bedroom. _Still dropping things left and right_.

_I was a damn good poltergeist_ , Mingyu huffs, opening the door and drifting towards the dresser. He opens an empty one and slowly lays the shirts inside. Minghao hands Mingyu his own pile and watches his boyfriend place them neatly together. _Remember how we got rid of the abusive pet owners? Scared them shitless with dropping pots and pans!_

_We also scared the poor dog too_ , Minghao reminds lightly. Mingyu turns his head to give Minghao a petulant look. _I mean, good job Mingyu! Oh, our Mingyu is so wonderfully clumsy!_

_We’ve been dead for twenty years now_ , Mingyu huffs. _We’re pretty much going to be stuck together for an eternity and you’d think you would learn to be nicer to me_.

_I am nice to you_ , Minghao laughs, shoving Mingyu against the dresser. The other ghost falls through it, and Minghao doesn’t wait to see the other’s offended expression, drifting away from the bedroom.

_That was_ not _nice!_ Mingyu cries, zooming out of the bedroom with his arms outstretched threateningly.

If any mortal were to see the scene, Minghao guesses it would either be the most hilarious thing ever or the most terrifying. Two floating pairs of kitchen gloves chasing each other around the apartment.

Minghao makes the mistake of entering the kitchen. His back hits the kitchen counter and he puts his gloved hands up in defeat. When they were alive, they used to spend time in the kitchen all the time. It’s the only place in the entire apartment they could both feel physical constraints—the only place they feel alive.

_I’m sorry!_ Minghao laughs, smacking away at the other’s attempts to tickle him.

_I don’t accept apologies!_ Mingyu declares. Minghao grabs both of Mingyu’s wrists and flips their position. Now, Mingyu is backed into the kitchen counter and the taller ghost looks down sheepishly. _I’m sorry?_

_I don’t accept apologies_ , Minghao says mockingly, not letting go of Mingyu’s wrists.

_What about this?_ Mingyu smirks, leaning forward to press their lips together in a quick peck. Mingyu leans back and wiggles his shoulders in an exaggerated attempt to be cute. _Am I forgiven now?_

_Not yet_ , Minghao whispers and pulls Mingyu back against him again. Their lips collide—this time a little more desperate and more needy, and it almost feels like they’re alive again.

The doorbell rings, and they pull apart, panting.

_Still not forgiven yet_ , Minghao smiles. They’re still nose to nose, and Minghao presses their lips together in a lingering kiss. _Saved by the door._

_More like cockblocked by the door_ , Mingyu mumbles. _He better like my cooking_.

And it’s moments like these they feel alive.  

\---

Wonwoo presses himself against the refrigerator and stares wide-eyed at the home cooked meal on the dining room table. Two chairs on the side of the table were pulled out as though people had been waiting for him.

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the hallucination from his eyes. Nope, it’s still there—the pot of kimchi stew, the collection of side dishes, the bowl of rice and the seared pieces of meat. Oh man, he’s so hungry and stressed that he’s hallucinating.

He knows that he’s a poor college student living on convenience store rice balls and half off instant noodle cups, but Wonwoo didn’t think he would miss a home cooked meal so much that he’d _imagine_ it with such mouth watering detail. Wonwoo approaches the dining table slowly and grabs the chopsticks. Yep, very real chopsticks. He uses one to poke at the bowl of rice. Yep, it’s physically there.

Oh man, he wants to eat it so bad, but who came in to put this food here?

Wonwoo glances at the stack of washed dishes and pots. Okay, so someone came in and cooked for him. It’s not his mother. His mom doesn’t even know he moved out of the school dorms, and he refuses to ask his family for more money. It’s not his guardian angel because if they existed, he wouldn’t be in this kind of predicament.

Is it the ghosts?

No! Wonwoo shakes his head furiously. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, Wonwoo tells himself firmly.

Wonwoo rented the so-called haunted apartment because it had been dirt cheap. He’s heard lots of crazy stories about the supernatural happenings and all his friends even threw a goodbye party for him.

“The story goes that two college roommates were murdered in that apartment,” Soonyoung had whispered dramatically. “And anyone who lives there gets cursed. Good luck, Wonwoo-ah. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Wonwoo refused to let it spook him back then and he refuses for it to scare him now. He’ll just toss out the food because he doesn’t know where it came from and just eat the instant noodles he has in his backpack—

_I didn’t poison it if that’s what you’re wondering_.

Wonwoo blinks. The two chairs that were pulled out are now occupied. And two sets of ghostly eyes stare at him. One of the ghostly projections with rubber kitchen gloves pulls out the third chair and motions for him to sit.

_Join us mortal_ , it says, smiling with a flash of canines.

_Oh ‘cause that’s not going to scare him_ , the other scowls, smacking the one with rubber gloves with kitchen mitts.

Wonwoo takes a deep breath and screams.

\---

( _Good going Mingyu. He fainted._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You move into a new house that’s haunted. However, the ghosts are extremely helpful. You come home one day and the laundry has been folded and dinner is ready.
> 
> this is ALSO a part of a larger story i was writing. Gyuhao are dead ;;; murdered when they were college students and wonwoo ends up helping them find out what happened! Uh so junhui’s the crush and he also get pulled into this story LOL
> 
> How did mingyu buy groceries? he uses his sister's account (she knows they're haunting the apartment and visits occassionally but can only see minghao and not her brother--i wrote a lot for this already lol) and how did he carry in said groceries? same way he folded/carried wonwoo's clothes. by wearing the rubber kitchen gloves from before he can touch other physical things.
> 
> I realized i never touched on this, but another part of the reason mingyu started doing house chores is cause he's hoping wonwoo will help them figure out what happened 20 years ago and who killed them. (there's backstory on why mingyu decides to try and reach out to wonwoo and all of that, but one day LOL I WILL FINISH WRITING THIS ONE DAY LOL)
> 
> I say that a lot: i will finish it one day .-. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, hope peeps are enjoying!


	19. Oppa, Oppa!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [College AU] Jeonghan tricks Minghao yet somehow it's still Junhui's fault. (aka. Jeonghan teaches Minghao when to use the word oppa.)

**Oppa, Oppa!**

\---

“Guys only use _oppa_ to call other good looking guys,” Jeonghan says.

Minghao nods. He understands that. He thinks. _Hyung_ is for older guys and _oppa_ is for good looking guys. Which is why girls used _oppa_ a lot. Okay, he gets it. And that’s saying something. In the past two months, Minghao hasn’t really gotten anything.

Junhui says he’s picking up Korean really quickly and that he shouldn’t be too hard on himself. But Junhui is also the only person in this country that Minghao can hold a conversation with. Okay, that’s a little dramatic, and to be fair, Minghao has not left the apartment since arriving in Korea. At first, the excuse was to unpack and then the excuse was class had not started and now the excuse is to prepare for class.

And he isn’t really hiding. Junhui brings his friends over all the time, although his roommate’s boyfriend usually invites himself in. Jeonghan pops in at the most random times, even when Junhui’s out. Minghao can’t count on both hands how many times he’s walked out of his bedroom only to find Yoon Jeonghan napping on the couch.

Today is no different. Minghao walks out of his room just in time to see Jeonghan flop down on their living room couch. Feeling a little lonely, Minghao joins the older man outside, and Jeonghan teaches Minghao little bits of Korean here and there.

“Jeonghan-oppa,” Minghao says, and the older man smiles sheepishly. Minghao does think Jeonghan is quite good looking, and it seems like the other is pleased. “I understand.”

“Uh, what are you teaching my romoatme?” Junhui asks, poking his head in from the hallway. “Whevtear it is, I don’t like the sound of it.”

“Nothing bad, Jun- _oppa_ ,” Jeonghan says with a teasing smile, and Minghao watches in fascination how quickly Junhui’s entire face turns red.

“That was _one_ tmie,” Junhui grumbles, still red in the face.

“Qtiue rmoatnic,” Jeonghan nods, turning to Minghao with a sweet smile. “Our Junnie was durnk and tlod me to clal him _oppa_. I elbowed him in the saolr puxles and we got totheger after he seberod up and apologized!”

Minghao smiles—he didn’t understand any of that, but okay, there’s something about _oppa_ s and elbows and apologizing.

“不要理他,” Junhui says, throwing his work bag on the kitchen table. “他喜欢骗人.” _Ignore him, he likes to trick people._

“那可是你的男朋友哦,” Minghao snickers. _That’s your boyfriend_.

“我hen喜欢ni,” Jeonghan interrupts, peering over the couch earnestly. “fei常喜huan你.” _I like you, I like you a lot_.

“我也非常非常喜欢你,” Junhui says, walking towards the couch and crouching so they were at eye level. They stare at each other for a little, each determined to stay stone faced, but failing miserably. Junhui is the first to tip forward and peck the other’s lips. “非常非常 _非常_ 喜欢你.”

_I also like you very very much. Very very very much_.

Minghao gags loudly and gets up to retreat into his room. Partially because he doesn’t want to watch them make out in front of him, and partially because, well, Minghao’s a little lonely. He’s lonely, and it feels like everyone fit in somewhere with someone, except him.

\---

Thinking back on it, Minghao should have realized that Jeonghan had played an innocent prank. Just by listening and watching, Minghao should have realized that only girls called guys who were older _oppa_. But for some reason, Minghao brushed it off as younger girls were just nice and respectful.

It was probably the stress of starting school and sitting through class after class with no idea what he was just listening to. He used to hate math, but now it’s the only class he understood anything in.

Thankfully, Junhui is a calm and constant presence in Minghao’s school life. The older man takes his duties to introduce Minghao to the university quite diligently, and he always knows when the younger needed a break, whispering to him in their mother tongue. With Junhui and Jeonghan, Minghao gets to know their friends.

He sort of knew Seungcheol and Jisoo already—they live in the apartment across the hall. They are naturally sweet in an already-married couple kind of way, but it’s slightly off as they seemed to consciously dance around each other.

“Are Seungcheol-hyung and Jisoo-hyung dating?” Minghao asks Junhui and gets an exasperated sigh for an answer.

“Dniael, btoh of tehm, for many years,” Jeonghan supplies, having overheard the question. “I’ve kwnon them since I was fifteen and I’m tninurg twenty-two soon. _That_ many years.”

And Minghao learns that a lot of them had known each other from high school, including Soonyoung and Wonwoo. Jihoon says that they’re dating, Seokmin says that they’re not.

“And eethir of them culod be right,” Jeonghan shrugs. At this point, Minghao realizes that Junhui doesn’t really pay attention to anything. Jeonghan’s the one with all the answers, even if Minghao doesn’t quite understand all of it.  “We never rlealy know when they’re atacluly dating. Some days Soonyoung wlil say thry’ee on and you ask Wonwoo and he’s pretty amadnat about them being off. Tpycial on and off ratleoisnhip.”

And what _really_ should have alerted Minghao of his honorific misunderstanding is when he meets Hansol and Seungkwan. They’re the youngest of the group, and Seungkwan is automatically fond of Minghao for some reason.

“Myungho-hyung just looks super nice!” Seungkwan says. Junhui just rolls his eyes and continues eating his lunch, muttering something that suspiciously sounds like— _wait till he masters Korean, nice, hah_.

“You’re nice,” Minghao responds, not knowing what else to really say. He turns to the other freshman who was terribly handsome in Minghao’s opinion. “It’s nice to meet you too, Hansol- _oppa_.”

Junhui spits out the food he was eating and chokes loudly. Seungkwan immediately jumps to his feet, handing the elder a bottle of water. And Minghao should have known.

“Oh, I’m younger than you, hyung,” Hansol laughs, patting Junhui’s back heartily.

“Oh, I see,” Minghao says, but he really doesn’t. In his mind, he merely corrects it from _what you would call good looking guys_ to _what you would call good looking guys who are older than you_.

Minghao should have known, but he didn’t.

\---

“Oh, you haven’t met Mingyu yet,” Junhui realizes while opening the refrigerator. His roommate was cooking dinner, and Jeonghan sat at the dining table, waiting and making noncommittal offers to help. Junhui sounds quite troubled. “I can’t believe you’ve been here for half a year now and you haven’t met _Mingyu_.”

Eyes glued to the movie on his laptop, Minghao nods distractedly. He’s heard Mingyu’s name everywhere from Junhui’s group of friends and has even eaten the mystery man’s food. But Minghao has yet to meet Kim Mingyu.

“He’s an Aries,” Junhui says as though that explained everything.

“His birthday is April 6th,” Jeonghan says as though _that_ explained everything.  

Minghao nods as though he understood. He did not. Oh boy, did he not.

Before Minghao continues, it was important to properly frame the event as it would explain why—why any of _that_ happened. A large group of them had decided to go out for dinner, and Mingyu was coming directly from an interview. Sitting all awkward in the rowdy group, Minghao notices a tall man stumble through the door.

“Oh Mingyu’s here!”

This was the most important frame to describe: He meets Kim Mingyu decked out in a smart navy suit with a silver tie pin and _matching_ cuff links. He meets Kim Mingyu with his hair gelled back and a daring _plaid_ tie.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“Seo Myungho,” he introduces, staring a little starry eyed at the new stranger. It’s definitely the plaid tie that shot this well-dressed stranger to a _good looking guy_. “It’s nice to meet you, Mingyu-oppa.”

As with all embarrassing moments, everyone is quiet when it happens. Mingyu is looking at him in confusion, and Minghao avoids the other’s eyes in mortification. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong, but he knows he’s said something wrong if Soonyoung wide open mouth is anything to go by.

“Mingyu…oppa?”

“Oppa— _Yoon Jeonghan!_ ”

“Yah, Choi Seungcheol, why do you automatically think it’s my fault?”

“It’s _always_ you!”

Minghao tries to shrink into the background, but it’s hard with Mingyu staring straight at him from across the table. Minghao feels his cheeks grow unbearably warm and something like nausea is stirring in his gut.

“Hyung,” Hansol says, tapping Minghao’s arm to get his attention. Willing to accept any distraction, Minghao turns to the younger. “Mingyu-hyung is the same age as you.”

“I think I know why this went on for as long as it did,” Jisoo smiles sympathetically, having overhead the little exchange. “You’re still learning, Myungho. It’s really okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t mind—uh, well,” Mingyu stammers, scratching his head. “Your Korean is good for being here for only three quarters.”

Great, Mingyu’s also a nice guy with a nice smile. Absolutely perfect, Minghao _completely_ made a fool out of himself in front of Mingyu. Minghao groans inwardly. Goodbye first impression.

“—so you see, it’s actually _Junhui’s_ fault,” Jeonghan declares after going through the entire situation in great detail.

“Wait what?” Junhui blinks bewildered at the turn the story took. “You taught my roommate the wrong thing and now it’s my fault?”

“Well, hyung’s got a point,” Wonwoo says, considering it in mock seriousness. “Technically, you _should_ have known Jeonghan-hyung was up to something so you really should have clarified it then.”

Soonyoung nods gravely in agreement, and Jeonghan smiles at Junhui oh-so lovingly.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Jeonghan sighs, petting his boyfriend’s hair gently. “I still love you.”

“I’m reconsidering,” Junhui pouts, but he breaks into a smile when the other leans in to kiss him on the cheek. The rest of the table groans loudly at the display.

Even with the spotlight shifted, Minghao is too distraught to realize that he’s understood everything his friends had said the entire night. He’s still too busy avoiding eye contact with Mingyu, and Mingyu keeps glancing his way intently as though he wanted to say something.

But an embarrassed Minghao is also dedicated eater and quick escaper. He’s out of the restaurant before Mingyu could call his name.

\---

That conversation doesn’t happen until much later when they bump into each other coincidentally. Minghao had been on his way to grab some lunch and Mingyu just walked out of a coffee shop.

“Um, Myungho!”

Minghao considers taking a one-eighty and running in the opposite direction, but his stomach growls in dissent.

“Have you had lunch yet?” Mingyu asks, and Minghao is tempted to say yes just to leave. “Uh, I haven’t so if you wanted we could maybe—um, grab lunch together?”

“It’s okay, I can just find something—”

“Myungho-oppa!” Mingyu yells loudly, turning a lot of heads and instigating quite a few giggles. Minghao stares at the taller man in shock, and Mingyu is staring right back at him with pink cheeks. “It’s not that embarrassing.”

Minghao gives him a skeptical look.

“It’s only embarrassing because you’re a good-looking guy,” Mingyu admits, flushing all the way to his ears. Minghao is speechless, and he watches the confidence slowly disappear from the other’s posture.

“We’re the same age,” Minghao says finally.

“Oh,” Mingyu responds. He perks up immediately, and Minghao can almost see a tail wagging. “Then is just Myungho okay?”

“Just Myungho is perfect,” Minghao smiles. His own cheeks are getting warm, but this time it was a good feeling. “Lunch?”

\---

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie i have a thing for jeonghan/junhui LOL ANYWAYS, so college aus are life ‘cause you can practically do anything and well, things happens in college right? 
> 
> So this actually happened? one of my friends taught another friend wrong honorifics to prank them and just forgot to correct it later, and like months later, it came back up and it ended up being ANOTHER friend’s fault LOOOL i just laughed all day ‘cause of that
> 
> IMPORTANT: anyways, probably be radio silence for the next couple of days ;; happy early birthday to me LOL


	20. 冰糖葫芦

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [band fic] Minghao takes Mingyu out to snack in Beijing.

**冰糖葫芦**

\---

“No, not over here,” Minghao says, pulling the other forward. Glancing around, Mingyu stumbles to keep up with his boyfriend. “Where is it—?”

Beijing is a very different city than Seoul, and everything is new to Mingyu. He wants to see it all, but Minghao is tugging his arm, weaving through the sea of people squeezed together in the tiny side street.

“Cities are all the same,” Jihoon shrugged, snuggling deeper into the hotel bed, but Mingyu disagrees.

Maybe most modern cities had tall buildings, insufferable traffic and crowds of people. Maybe they’ve toured enough cities to see similarities and spot trends, but this is the first city that Minghao is literally bouncing off the walls.

Minghao hasn’t stopped talking or smiling since they landed in Beijing.

In the airport, he pointed at everything talking about whether things have changed or not. On the van, he reminisced about his short time at school in Beijing from the food to the side streets to the stray dogs. Checking into the hotel, he immediately started making plans for their short period of free time. While everyone was unpacking and washing up, Minghao and Junhui huddled together on one of the beds, chatting nonstop about where to go and what to eat and—帶他们出那儿干吗? _Why are we taking them there?_

Surprisingly, it didn’t take very long for everyone to wake up in the morning. There was something contagious about Minghao and Junhui’s bubbly excitement. Even Jihoon rolled out of bed and into the bathroom without too much fuss—Junhui has very effective puppy dog eyes and Jihoon does have a soft spot for the Chinese man.

It was a task on its own to transport an entire group of thirteen rowdy young men and their staff members, but miraculously, they manage as they always have. They arrived at the tourist shopping district late in the morning and decided to split into groups. As they finally decided when and where to regroup, Minghao pulled Mingyu away from the large tourist street with an eager smile and a finger to his lips. They slipped away from the group with a thumbs up from Junhui who exuberantly launches into a long explanation of the street’s history.

Mingyu’s amazed at how the front side of the street is so different from the back street. The smaller street is lined with tiny clothing shops and tourist stores. Racks and racks of clothes and hats are hanging on the small store walls while the front side is crowded with foreign tourists, the back street is filled with Chinese natives. And while Mingyu wants to shop around, Minghao seems to have a destination in mind.

Mingyu shakes Minghao’s hand off as an elderly woman cuts in between them. Minghao doesn’t even turn around and just reaches back to grab his arm again. Mingyu jogs a couple steps and marvels at how easily Minghao fits into the crowd.

His boyfriend insisted that he didn’t know the capitol that well— _I was here for school for a little bit so I’m not very familiar with Beijing, but if we went home, man, there’s so many things_ —but Mingyu can’t see it. He just sees someone who finally came home, and if this is Minghao in some place he’s not very familiar with, Mingyu really wants to go to Minghao’s hometown.

“Oh! Right there!” Minghao yells, turning around with bright eyes and wide open smile. He tugs Mingyu beside him and points. “冰糖葫芦!”

“ _Bing tang_ what?” Mingyu asks. He looks at the small stall ahead of them. _Oh, woah_.

The stall itself is a small cart only large enough for the two employees—one who’s dipping long skewers into melted sugar and the other exchanging goods for money. He’s seen street carts in Korea all the time, but it’s the _bing shang_ —whatever it’s called that catches his eye. Two towers of candy glazed fruits stand tall and beautiful against the bright lights. There are skewers of sliced kiwi, sliced pineapple and whole strawberries with gold candy glaze, but most of the tower is covered with sticks of small red fruits.  He’s not sure what they are, but Mingyu’s mouth waters at the smell of melted sugar. 

“ _Bing. Tang. Hu. Lu_ ,” Minghao sounds out, and Mingyu repeats it obediently. “It’s a pretty popular treat! The small red fruit is a little sour so it balances the sugar well!”

“What are these?” Mingyu asks, pointing at a small row of white glazed root or vegetable or—what is _that_?

“Uh, _shan yao_ , it’s—ah, just get the _shan zha_ ,” Minghao says, pointing at the speckled red fruit. “It’s more traditional.”

“You just have no idea what _shang yao_ is in Korean,” Mingyu teases.

“And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you,” Minghao huffs. He approaches the cart and leans around to talk to the busy cashier. “怎么卖的？” _How much?_

“五元一串儿,” the employee says briskly, not even looking in Minghao direction. _5 yuan a skewer_.

“我们来两串儿,” Minghao says. He points to the red fruit. “可以自己拿吗？” _We’ll take two. Can I get it myself?_  

“ _不行_ ,” the skewer dipper says, looking up from his task. “我们拿.” _No. We’ll get it for you._

Occupied, the man doesn’t realize his pot tilted and some of the liquid pours over the side. Immediately the small street is filled with the smell of burning sugar, and Mingyu watches as it turns some heads in interest, especially the children’s much to their parent’s dismay.

Mingyu chuckles at the sudden outburst from the children and the quick denial of their parents. He doesn’t need to understand Chinese to know how that conversation goes.

“拿着一下,” Minghao says, elbowing Mingyu’s side and handing him two skewers covered in a thin paper. “纸是可以吃的.” _Hold this for a moment. You can eat the paper._

Mingyu takes the offered skewer and stares at them. He stands there awkwardly, waiting for Minghao to finish. Now that they’re in China, Minghao often says things to him in Chinese without much thought. It doesn’t really bother Mingyu too much—not like Wonwoo who complains every time Junhui chatters away in his native language.

Even so, Mingyu feels—lonely? isolated? He feels like he doesn’t quite belong in Minghao’s world. Watching his boyfriend’s back, Mingyu feels miles away. He’s just observing, and one day, Minghao will return to this world—side street markets, loud voices, brisk manners and most importantly, other Chinese people. 

Mingyu tries not to think about _post-Seventeen_ because he honestly doesn’t want to believe there will be an _afterwards_. But, watching Minghao laugh and banter with the stall employees, Mingyu wonders if there’s any place for him in Minghao’s _post-Seventeen_. 

“发什么呆?” Minghao teases, mock punching Mingyu in the chest. _What are you all dazed for?_  

“听不懂,” Mingyu responds in annoyance. _I don’t understand_.

“There are so many things you don’t understand,” Minghao laughs. He reaches out to take one of the skewers but Mingyu pulls away. “Hey!”

“听不懂!” Mingyu calls in childish glee, holding the skewers just slightly out of reach. _I don’t understand!_

“Kim Mingyu!” Minghao yells. Mingyu steps backward and Minghao grabs his shirt, yanking Mingyu forward. “不好意识! 小朋友没事吧?” _I’m sorry! Kid, are you alright?_

Mingyu turns his head and barely sees the top of the child’s head. The mother says something scathing in response— _小心一点儿, 两个大男孩在路中_ _间干什么_? and leads her child away. _Be careful, what are two young men doing in the middle of the road?_ Pressed together, they stand to the side and bow apologetically. There’s a moment of awkward silence before Minghao giggles, leaning his forehead on Mingyu’s shoulder.

“多谢了,” Minghao says cheekily, taking advantage of the distraction to pluck a skewer out of Mingyu’s hands. _Many thanks_.

“不客气,” Mingyu mumbles. He starts peeling away the thin paper but Minghao quickly stops him. _You’re welcome_.

“You can eat the paper,” Minghao laughs. He bites through the paper and into the candy glazed fruit. A small piece of the paper sticks to Minghao’s bottom lip. Mingyu desperately wants to reach out to clean it off, but the street is too crowded and too foreign. 

“You have a piece stuck to your lip,” Mingyu says instead. Minghao licks his lips and flips the small piece into his mouth. Mingyu watches the other bite into the candy skewer again. The hard syrup cracks and flakes onto Minghao’s lips. “You have more stuff on your lips.”

“Instead of watching me eat, how about you start eating too?” Minghao asks, peering up at Mingyu with a raised eyebrow. Minghao suddenly smirks and lowers his eyelids to half mast. “Unless you wanted to eat off my lips.”

“Who wants to eat off your lips?!” Mingyu exclaims, biting into his own glazed skewer viciously. He chews and pauses. The fruit was a little dry and sour, but it really did balance well with the sweetness of the syrup. He takes another bite and another and—

“I thought you might like it,” Minghao grins, munching on another bite. “There’s so much good Chinese food I want to take you to eat. It would take years and years and _years_! Not just up here in the north, but when we go down south, there’s also—”

Mingyu tries not to smile too widely. He thinks he likes that idea—eating through China’s various foods and being with Minghao for years and years and _years_.

\---

“You guys went and had good food without us?” Soonyoung gasps, glaring at the two younger. They’re all sitting around in the largest hotel room, taking advantage of the fact the three eldest are still out. “Why is it that they always go on dates and we never do?”

“When we head down to _Guang Zhou_ ,” Junhui promises, smoothing down Soonyoung’s hair.

“I’m coming along,” Wonwoo calls from the armchair.

“Same,” Jihoon says, leaning against a pillow and swiping through his phone.

“I thought you two hated going out,” Soonyoung accuses, sitting up straight and crossing his arms.

“As though we’d let you two go on a date on your own,” Jihoon says, glancing over his phone with a pointed look.

“It’ll be a group date,” Junhui smiles, throwing his hands up in the air.

“No!” Soonyoung groans. He opens his mouth to continue but is interrupted when the door clicks open.

“It’s heavy—hey! Why are all of you in here?” Seungcheol asks in surprise, freezing in the doorway with a couple of shopping bags.

“Why are you surprised?” Jeonghan questions, shoving Seungcheol forward. The three eldest make their way into the room and manage not to step on anyone.

Seungcheol tosses the bags onto the bed, barely missing Jihoon’s leg. The younger frowns, and the elder apologizes quickly, pulling the bags to the other side of the bed. Jeonghan prods Seungcheol a couple of time, and the leader sighs in exasperation, picking up the bags and throwing them on the other bed. Jeonghan gives a quick pat on the butt in thanks before rolling onto the bed next to Jihoon. The younger scooches slightly, and they amicably settle against each other. Seungcheol glares at them spitefully.

“Did you guys have fun?” Jisoo asks cheerfully, shimming out of his outerwear.

“Yep!” Mingyu says, pointing at his new hat. “I bought an _I love Beijing_ beanie!”

“Oh is that— _oh_ ,” Jisoo chokes, laughing hysterically. He doesn’t even manage to take off his jacket, falling onto the bed in giggles. “ _Oh!_ ”

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu asks in concern. He pulls off his beanie and stares at it.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Jisoo snorts, rolling onto the shopping bags much to leader’s annoyance. Seungcheol pushes Jisoo off the bags with an offended yelp. “It’s probably right!” 

“Just ask Hansol later,” Minghao shrugs, scrolling through his weibo messages.

Mingyu stares at his beanie and the embroidered words: I ❤ BJ.

What’s wrong with it?

\---

End. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159271639@N03/38068673692/in/dateposted/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so my dream is to have a foodie trip through China. And I love bing tang hulu so here we are :] 
> 
> And yes, there are hats and beanies and shirts with I heart BJ for I love Beijing. But guess where my fucking brain went LOL
> 
> Red fruit Chinese hawthorn :)))) it’s very tasty
> 
> 11/1 EDIT: I added the picture~ :D


	21. The Stubborn Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The Lost Prince AU] Xu Minghao is the Eastern Prince, and he really doesn’t need a knight.

**The Stubborn Prince**

\---

“Hyung, I don’t _want_ a knight,” Xu Minghao whines—oh no, not whines. The Fifth Prince of the Eastern Territories does not _whine_. He’s the Prince of War and Bloodshed. He’s the Iron Fist of the Eastern Tribes. He’s—okay, he’s whining to his older brother, but anyone in his shoes would! “Soonyoung-hyung! I’ve been without a knight for _years_! Why do I need one _now_?”

“It’s not my call,” his half-brother shrugs, putting down the sharpening stone. The Third Prince Kwon Soonyoung holds up his dagger with a look of satisfaction, turning it to inspect the blade. “Minhyun-hyung decided it was time for you to take up your responsibility as a member of the Royal Family.”

“Bullshit,” Minghao groans, pacing up and down his brother’s room in annoyance. He pauses every so often to pick something off the floor to put back to its original spot or what Minghao supposes is the original spot—the book probably belongs on the bookshelf and the clothes in the dirty laundry bin. “Bull-fucking-shit.” 

The Crowned Prince Hwang Minhyun was the one who allowed Minghao to go without a knight— _he’s plenty capable of taking care of himself and I mean, if he doesn’t want a knight, why force him?_ It makes no sense that his brother suddenly decided to reinforce the Royal Responsibilities.

“Unfortunately, the Crowned Prince was the one who made the decision.” 

Minghao turns toward the newcomer at the open door and perks up a little. Choi Seungcheol is one of Soonyoung’s knights and an unofficial older brother to all the princes after Soonyoung. The older man is dressed handsomely for Court—dark blue robes and a white satin sash across his chest.

“Done with grievances today?” Soonyoung asks, tossing the dagger haphazardly in Seungcheol’s direction. “You’re fast. In the future, remind me to send you instead of Jeonghan.” 

“That’s only because Jeonghan adds his own grievances,” Seungcheol retorts, catching the blade between his thumb and pointer finger. The knight inspects Soonyoung’s handiwork and whistles. “We’ll make a swordsmith out of you yet, Your Highness.”

“It’s a good blade, isn’t it?” Soonyoung says with his trademark eye smile—the one that brought him fame on the battlefield as Ten O’ Ten Hoshi. “Hey, Myungho, our blacksmith says I’m doing better. You can stop belittling my work.” 

“As if I dare to belittle you, oh dear Third Prince of the Northern Territories,” Minghao says with a mock bow. He turns back to Seungcheol with a pout. “And what do you mean the Crowned Prince? It’s probably Jonghyun-hyung.”

“You are not wrong,” Seungcheol laughs, closing the door behind him with a wave of his hand. Minghao marvels at the effortless display. There is no one in the Four Territories that commands wordless magic as easily as Choi Seungcheol. “The Grand Counselor is the only one who can get the Crowned Prince to go back on his word.”

“What is it this time?” Minghao sighs, slouching into the only unoccupied armchair. He had spent a good hour cleaning up his brother’s floors, but the mess of books and papers on the other’s couch is not a demon Minghao’s willing to tackle. Leaning back into the chair, he pinches his nose bridge in annoyance. “I’m guessing it’s because there’s some territorial unrest or something stupid like that.” 

“Prince Wonwoo and Junhui ended up getting along well,” Seungcheol says gently. Minghao snorts—his elder brother and his knight got along a little _too_ well. As in he’ll probably have to attend a wedding in the next couple of years. 

Before Minghao became of age to take a knight, the Eastern Tribes had thrown a small rebellion. While it was put down effectively, it terrified the Capitol—or more specifically, his brothers had been terrified for Minghao’s safety. Minghao had seen it as the Tribes testing him as the Eastern Prince, but the Court had seen it as an attack on the kingdom’s sovereign right. There had been talks of forcefully assimilating the Tribes, and the Court even suggested annihilating the threat completely.

Instead, the Grand Counselor Kim Jonghyun suggested Fourth Prince take up an Eastern knight. His older brother, Prince Jeon Wonwoo of the Western Territories, had been fully against it and locked himself in the library for weeks in rebellion. Yet, the prince and his knight-to-be managed to meet on accident, stumbling into each other in search of the kitchen, and as they say—the rest is history.

And the Eastern Rebellion was also written into history without much follow up. His brother’s knight, Wen Junhui, was from a powerful family in the Eastern Tribes, and his adoration of both Minghao and Wonwoo played a large part in calming the Eastern Territories.

Now, the Eastern Territories is one of the calmest, and it’s the Southern Territories that gave his eldest brother headaches.

“It’s the South, isn’t it?” Minghao deduces, staring up at the ceiling.

“The Southern Territories—they have been in a state of unrest since Prince Seungkwan’s assassination attempt,” Seungcheol says. He hesitates and gives Soonyoung a look. The Northern Prince shrugs. “If I tell him the rest, you get to explain to Seungkwan.”

“As if I’m scared of Kwannie,” Soonyoung snorts. “He’s the little Seven. What’s he going to do to me?” 

“But you’ll be scared if he and Seokmin decide to tell Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says with a smug look. “You’ll be stuck going to grievances for a _year_.” 

“Oh fuck, I forgot—” Soonyoung chokes, flopping down onto the floor in defeat. The Third Prince stares listlessly at the ceiling and dramatically reaches above him in an exaggerated ritual dance step. 

Minghao smothers a laugh. While it’s well known that the Third, Sixth and Seventh Prince are a unit of their own, Jeonghan is rather protective of the younger princes and has absolutely no problem throwing his own prince into the dragon’s fire. 

“Too late, I’m going to tell Myungho,” Seungcheol smiles, and it’s so reminiscent of Jeonghan’s that Minghao says a quick prayer for his brother— _rest in pieces, Prince Kwon Soonyoung, may the Capitol run well without you._ “Basically, our dear Seventh Prince of the Southern Territories is in love with one of the knight candidates and refuses to take anyone else.”

“Seungkwan is in love,” Minghao says with a deadpan look. “He’s in love ninety-eight percent of the time with eighty-nine percent of the population.”

“He insists its _true love_ this time,” Seungcheol says with a solemn nod.

“Who is it?” Minghao asks with a defeated sigh. He’s had this conversation with Seungkwan for years. His younger brother is always in love with _someone_ , and each time the younger claims its true love.

“Chwe Hansol, a knight candidate from the Western Territories,” Seungcheol informs, and there’s something proud in the knight’s smile. “He’s a good kid. Slightly out there at times but I think he really likes Seungkwan too.” 

“Oh, it’s mutual,” Soonyoung says, tilting his head to look at Seungcheol. “Now _that’s_ a first.” 

“Our Father must be rolling in his grave,” Minghao says dryly. “Instead of marrying out, most of his sons are interested in their knights.” 

“Or their Grand Counselor,” Soonyoung quips. 

“And how exactly is that going anyways?” Minghao asks. “Between Minhyun-hyung and Jonghyun-hyung?” 

He’s not very close to his eldest brothers—most of them having moved out before Minghao ever stepped foot in the palace. As a child, he briefly met the self-proclaimed First Prince Choi Minki and the Second Prince Kang Dongho in their respective territories, and it wasn’t until many years later that he felt comfortable with them to visit or even banter. 

While Minhyun has always been in the palace, his oldest brother is always so busy tending to his Crowned Prince duties, and Minghao feels like he’s bothering the other—no matter how Minhyun insists otherwise. 

“It’s _not_ going,” Soonyoung answers. “Hyung’s got to get on a move on it before Jonghyun-hyung ends up marrying himself off for the _greater good of the kingdom_.” 

“I can see that happening,” Seungcheol sighs. “Either that or Jonghyun’s going to suggest that the Crowned Prince get married for”—the knight makes air quotes—“ _the greater good of the kingdom_.” 

“Hopeless, both of them,” Soonyoung groans from the floor. He lifts his head to look at Minghao. “You’re not going to be that hopeless, are you?” 

“No promises,” Minghao chuckles. “We are related after all.” 

“Minhyun-hyung is Capitol blood with a capitol C,” Soonyoung says with an eye roll. “You are the Iron Fist of the Eastern Territories. You should be in better shape than hyung.” 

“He _is_ the Crowned Prince,” Seungcheol reminds. 

“Yeah, well, he’s my brother first, and I say he’s hopeless,” Soonyoung declares, pointing accusingly at his knight. “Hope- _less_!” 

“I think you might be the hope- _less_ one,” Seungcheol says, nudging the prince’s hand away with his foot. Soonyoung squawks about dirty shoes on his clothes as though he hadn’t spent the past five minutes rolling on the floor. “But then you should help the hopeless Crowned Prince, no?”

While Seungcheol is looking down at Soonyoung, Minghao knows the knight is addressing the question at him. He looks back up at the ceiling and sighs. 

“I know,” Minghao mutters to himself. “I know.” 

\--- 

They met on a sunny day in the palace gardens. Minghao had been out and about to clear his head, and Jisoo had been giving their newest knight-to-be a tour of the palace. 

Kim Mingyu of the Southern Territories isn’t the most spectacular knight candidate Minghao’s ever met—Junhui had been, but his stats are promising. It’s not easy to utilize Formal Magic and Elemental Works together, and in that respect, Minghao is quite satisfied. And he’s easy on the eyes with his classic Southern features—dark hair, strong jaw and almond eyes. At least, that’s Minghao’s first impression.

And then Mingyu trips over absolutely nothing.

If the knight candidate caught himself, the story might have been a little different. Maybe Minghao would have looked upon his new knight favorably, but the knight fails to catch himself. Instead, the knight falls right into Minghao and takes the prince down with him. 

They hit the cobblestone pathway—or more specifically, Minghao hits the stone floor _hard_. Mingyu’s weight on top of him merely makes the impact heavier, and from the weird hollow feeling in his head, Minghao’s pretty sure he has a concussion now.

“Your Highness!” Jisoo yelps.

“I—I’m so sorry!” the knight candidate stutters, scrambling up and manages to smack Minghao in the nose. “Oh uh, I’m sorry about that too!”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Minghao croaks, blinking away the black spots in his vision. “I just—give me a moment.” 

“Here let me help—!” 

“ _No_ ,” Minghao snaps, sitting up suddenly. Ouch, it’s not his brightest idea, but he doesn’t want to know what other damage his knight-to-be can inflict. 

“Let me,” Jisoo says calmly. He places a cool hand on Minghao’s forehead, and closing his eyes, the prince lets the knight numb the pain. “It’ll be done in a moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

Minghao opens one eye to look at the knight candidate. At least the man looks genuinely apologetic and maybe a little scared. 

“It’s fine,” Minghao says coldly. While he’s not one to play up his reputation, Minghao knows he has one—the bloodthirsty, ruthless Eastern Prince. “I’m fine Jisoo-hyung.” 

“I can just—”

“I’ve been attacked by worse,” Minghao says, standing up and brushing off his clothing. “Although, I never expected my own knight-to-be to attack me like this.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Mingyu says, and he quickly quiets. 

_Good, at least he knows his place_ , Minghao thinks. He gives Mingyu his most disdainful look before giving Jisoo a curt nod and strides out of the garden purposefully. 

“It really was an honest mistake,” Minghao overhears the other say sadly.

“I know Mingyu,” Jisoo says, and Minghao imagines the elder’s calming smile. “His Highness can’t hold a grudge forever.” 

_Watch me_ , Minghao huffs. 

\--- 

“Your Highness, can you—” 

“Just because we’re bound doesn’t mean you can talk out of turn,” Minghao sighs, not slowing down at all. While he came to the Capitol for the knighting ceremony, Minghao is also here for other reasons—including reporting annual tax, revenue, and grievances. Walking briskly down the hallway, he needs to get to the Court meeting before they leave for the evening so he can plan his return trip— 

“ _Seo Myungho_ ,” his knight yells. Minghao turns around ready to scold his knight—how dare he address his prince without formalities? But he’s stunned into silence at the taller man’s look of despair. “Can you stop pretending like I don’t exist?”

Minghao blinks. It’s kind of hard to pretend the tall, clumsy knight didn’t exist. After all, Minghao has a lot of things he needs to finish and he—he’s been ignoring his knight. The sudden realization prickles at his conscious. 

They had just been bound a week ago, but Minghao doesn’t remember sitting down and going over his knight’s new duties. In fact, he doesn’t remember _talking_ to his new knight beyond their stiffly recited vows. 

In the past week, Mingyu has been hovering around him and following after him like a lost puppy. While Minghao had been busy, the Fifth Prince hadn’t been _that_ busy. He knows how sensitive the bond is in the early stages, and Soonyoung always told him stories of twisted bonds because of neglect. 

_They give us their everything so if nothing else, we need to give them a little bit of our heart too_ : Soonyoung lectured when they were much younger. At the time, Minghao had nodded solemnly and promised to be a caring prince. 

Yet here he is.                                                                                        

“I know you exist,” Minghao says finally. 

“Do you really?” Mingyu asks with pursed lips and red eyes. He looks like a wrong answer away from crying, and Minghao hates the fact he’s the cause. 

“I do and I—and while I don’t like this arrangement, I haven’t been fair to you,” Minghao admits. “You are my knight, and I didn’t mean to—to be a cause of any pain.”

“I know, I know you don’t want me,” Mingyu says, fiddling with the loose strings of his sleeves. “And I know this is for the Southern Territories. I know all of that, but I—I just want you to give me a chance.” 

Minghao flinches— _I know you don’t want me_. Hearing the knight—no, hearing _his_ knight say something like that burns his chest painfully. No, this wasn’t— 

“I was one of the top knight candidates for a reason,” Mingyu declares, looking into Minghao’s eyes resolutely. “I can See and Sense. I’m proficient at both Formal Magic and Elemental Works. I’m good with pretty much any weapon, and I’m decent at hand-to-hand combat. I’m good at arithmetic and writing and cooking and fixing things—I can be the best knight in all the kingdom!” 

Minghao bites back a smile. 

“If—If you’d let me,” Mingyu says, deflating. 

“Alright, prove it to me then,” Minghao says, crossing his arms in front of him with a critical eye. “You said you’ll be the best knight in all the kingdom. Prove it.” 

And it’s amazing how quickly the knight perks up, smiling widely. Minghao looks away. His knight is _very_ easy on the eyes.  

“I will!” Mingyu agrees. “Uh, to start, uh, I can help you with the tax documents for tomorrow! I saw that you hadn’t finished them yet and I’m actually really good with that kind of stuff—” 

\--- 

Sitting up, Jihoon wakes up with a gasp. 

He looks around the dark room wildly—on habit, his eyes search for his prince. Only after he sees the prince-shaped lump on the other bed does Jihoon breath out and slowly calm his racing heart. It hadn’t been as terrifying as some of his dreams have been in the past, but any look into the future takes a toll on the young knight. 

“Are you alright?” his prince, Lee Seokmin, asks sleepily from the other bed. “Another vision?” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon breathes, slowing his breaths down. 

“Any horrible future events we should be aware of?” Seokmin asks blearily, rolling to the edge of his bed to look at Jihoon. “More assassination attempts? A rebellion? A curse on the Royal Family to end our bloodlines?” 

“No, although,” Jihoon chuckles dryly. His prince has a flair for drama, but to be fair, all the brother did to a certain extent. Seokmin is just more vocal about it, and the knight has long learned how to distinguish between genuine concern and laughable statements. “Although, Prince Myungho will be taking a knight soon.”

“Oh?” Seokmin hums. He seems to think about the idea for a moment before snorting. Myungho will not like this idea at all. “Will they get along?” 

“How should I put this?” Jihoon wonders before smiling. “They’ll get along a little _too_ well.” 

\---

The end. [don't let me write anymore in this universe, I still have the Lost Prince to finish ;;A;;]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write an AU of my own fanfic? YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT. HAH. It’s (well it was) my birthday so just let me do what I want LOL
> 
> Basically, unlike the Lost Prince, there are no lost princes. There are seven sons to the king:  
> Crowned Minhyun of the Capitol (Nu’est) --> Knight Aron, Grand Counselor Jonghyun  
> \- Not the greatest warrior but great politician  
> \- He also has a good grasp on all forms of Magic and a master Magick user in his own right which is why the military driven territories (the East) respect him  
>   
> Self-Declared First Minki of the West (Nu’est)  
> \- Technically should be the 3rd prince after Baekho but decided he’s 1st and at the time, their father just kinda shrugged  
> \- He hates the stifling Capitol and left the moment he could  
>   
> Second Baekho of the North (Nu’est)  
> \- Stays full time in the North, very fond of Jihoon ‘cause they’re from the same family line and both accomplished alchemists  
> \- Seems fierce and well to the reputation of the fierce North, but actually very kind and just wants to better the condition of his people  
>   
> Third Soonyoung of the North --> Knights: Seungcheol (Market), Jeonghan (Manor), Jisoo (Merchant)  
> \- Stays full time in the Capitol, he’s pretty much in charge of all domestic stuffs with his three knights each in charge of a corner of the Capitol  
> \- So technically with his three knights, Soonyoung doesn’t really do much in terms of governance, but he has the last say in most of it  
> \- Skilled strategist who enjoys the battlefield which is why Eastern born Minghao holds Soonyoung to the greatest regard  
>   
> Fourth Wonwoo of the West --> Knight: Junhui of the East  
> \- Mostly in the West, more of a scholar than anything else, built the most impressive library of all the territories, even more impressive than the palace library goes on book hunts a lot but thankfully the West is super stable so he doesn’t need to be there  
> \- Pretty much married, the Court’s not gonna approve of it but eh, Wonwoo will find something in the law books that basically tells the Court to fuck off  
>   
> Fifth Minghao of the East  
> \- Mostly in the East – he’s got a pretty strong following in the East made up of the now Tribe Leaders so he’s out and about a lot (loves traveling)  
> \- Once he reached age to pick up a knight, he basically fought with the Court that he didn’t need one and Minhyun being ever the peaceful one just was like ‘now now! it’s not worth fighting about!!!!’  
>   
> Sixth Seokmin of the Capitol --> Knight: Jihoon  
> \- He’s pretty much the one who runs all the Arts in the Capitol  
> \- Everyone thought he and Jihoon wouldn’t get along, but both have a great passion for music and hah! They’re not interested in each other romantically, but they definitely love each other very much.  
>   
> Seventh Seungkwan of the South  
> \- Stays in the South mostly  
> \- He loves the Southern Territories and wants to let everyone know how amazing his territory is – loves to sing, loves to dance, loves to act  
> \- He’s in love with Hansol and refuses to take on different knight candidate
> 
> Main storyline I’ll never write LOL: The South is unhappy with the Capitol’s neglect. They’re an old territory with great economic strength and revenue from sea trade. With the assassination attempt on Seungkwan—their darling Southern Prince, the people of the South want to leave the control of the Capitol. Word on the street is that the Court planned the assassination attempt in order to get rid of a beloved prince and the only voice for the Southern Territories.


	22. How Does a Moment Last Forever?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Beauty and the Beast AU] In which Mingyu and Minghao are a part of the cursed staff. 
> 
> aka. Mingyu is a rolling pin and Minghao is a bronze dragon statue.

**How Does a Moment Last Forever?**

\---

Wonwoo creeps quietly through the dark castle halls. He’s not sure where he’s going, but he couldn’t stay in his room any longer. In his room, he would just stew in his own thoughts, and the anger would eat him alive.

Yet being out and about during the day, Wonwoo would merely run into the Tiger, and they would fight. He spent the past few weeks arguing with the damn Tiger— _I’m not going to run away, can’t you trust me, you don’t fucking trust anyone!_

Originally, Wonwoo agreed to stay as a hostage, and in return, the Tiger let his mentor go. He thought they could at least co-exist in the same place. The castle is large with many wings and halls, but for some blasted reason, the Tiger seems to be _following_ Wonwoo around. If they were civil, it wouldn’t be a problem, but the Tiger always criticizes him of _something_. Whatever the Tiger throws at him, Wonwoo returns in kind—bitter, spiteful and angry.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, his mentor often says. But there’s only the two of them with damageable eyes, and Wonwoo is going to come out on top.

Wonwoo is not as patient as his mentor, Hong Jisoo. He stops in his step and ignores the pang of longing in his heart.

Hong Jisoo is like a father to him, and Wonwoo knows that without the older man he would have long died an abandoned orphan. When he found his fatherly figure trapped in a cursed castle, Wonwoo didn’t think twice and offered himself up instead.

He doesn’t regret making that deal, but Wonwoo is starting to regret being a man of his word. He could still make a run for it. Sure, there are wolves and other predators in the woods surrounding the castle, but death out there is better than the Tiger killing him.

A sudden cold breeze makes him realize how ill-prepared he is for his impromptu night stroll. Wonwoo briskly walks down the stairs in search for an enchanted fireplace—apparently, some of them have been burning for years. But then again, he’s not too sure whether to take the words of a rolling pin too seriously.

Wonwoo glances carefully around the dark hallway, searching for moving furniture or other originally inanimate objects. Ever since he’s almost stepped on a traveling pack of hopping teacups, Wonwoo’s been very careful of rushing out of stairwells or swinging open doors. Seeing none in sight, he quietly steps into the hallway and moves toward the shifting light spilling out of a half-opened door.

But he stops right outside the door when he hears familiar voices.

“Why don’t we just tell him—?”

“That the prince was a good guy before a curse turned him into an angry beast?”

“Myungho, we’re running out of time—!”

“Mingyu, we’re _already_ _out_ of time.”

Wonwoo peers into the door opening. Without a doubt, the rolling pin and the bronze dragon statue are there bickering. While Wonwoo usually would just walk in, he hesitates. There’s something a little more serious about their current argument.

On the first day, Wonwoo learned that the rolling pin was Kim Mingyu, the old cook of the castle, and the bronze dragon was Seo Myungho, a visiting scholar. The rolling pin put on quite the show for Wonwoo’s welcome dinner with singing plates and dancing utensils, and the bronze dragon helped Wonwoo familiar himself with the castle layout. The dragon even helped him find some hideaway places on the roof and in the gardens— _just in case, you wanted to escape, we all get it_. They try to make his stay here more comfortable and just for that, he’s very fond of them.

He’s also met quite a few other appliances and objects who could speak and move around. The liveliest bunch is the string ensemble—Seokmin the violin, Seungkwan the viola and Jihoon the cello. Both Seokmin and Seungkwan insist that as humans Jihoon was the shortest, and Jihoon insists that the only reason he hasn’t crushed the other two is for old times’ sake. Vernon is the sleepy coat hanger at the front door, Jeonghan is the bed in the master bedroom, and Chan is a ring of keys. All of them are better company than the Tiger.

According to Myungho, in the years past, this castle had been a bustling cultural center with traveling scholars, musicians and merchants, but a curse turned the staff into the objects they are today. No one mentioned a royal family, much less a prince.

Although it would make sense, Wonwoo ponders. The Tiger is the only creature in the dreary castle.

“Mingyu, I saw the rose,” the bronze statue says. “We’re literally on the last petals. If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the one, we’re doomed.”

“Don’t say that!” the rolling pin argues, bending in the middle. His voice is high in distress. “They just don’t see eye to eye! It doesn’t mean—”

“Mingyu, it’s getting harder and harder for me to move,” Myungho says softly. The rolling pin hobbles over closer to the dragon statue, leaning into the other’s short arms. “I can barely open my claws now.”

“Don’t say that,” Mingyu chides. “At least you have claws. I’m just a fat wooden stick with two handles. I can’t even hold your hand—”

The rolling pin chokes and Myungho pulls the other closer.

“I’ll hold you,” the dragon statue promises. “Even when the last petal falls and we can’t talk or move anymore, I’ll hold onto you.”

Wonwoo watches quietly, and his heart aches. He slowly steps away from the opening and creeps back up the stairs.

He’s not sure what the curse is about or what he can do, but Wonwoo decides he’s going to try. He’s not quick to make friends or develop fond feelings for people—or things, but he does like the staff of the castle. If they’re going to lose their humanities, he needs to do something.

Wonwoo makes up his mind to talk to the Tiger tomorrow.

\---

Sprinting up the spiral steps of the castle tower, Wonwoo tries not to slow. His thighs are burning and every muscle in his body is screaming in dissent, but he _needs_ to get to the roof.

Wonwoo needs to get to the Tiger—no, to _Soonyoung_. He grips the stem of the rose in one hand and cradles the top of the flower in another, protecting the last petal from falling. It’s _not_ too late. He won’t let it!

Reaching the top of stairs, Wonwoo trips over something and lands face first into the stone floor. The rose tumbles out of his hands. Groaning in pain, Wonwoo picks himself up slowly—first, leaning up on his scraped forearms and then sitting up on his knees. Panting, he turns to curse at the offending object, but the words choke him.

A rolling pin with a bronze dragon curled up around it. Both lifeless and unmoving.

“Fuck—!” Wonwoo cries, reaching out to his friends. Yes, they are his friends, and Wonwoo cradles the two in his arms, wondering—is he too late?

To break the curse, the Tiger needs to love and be loved in return before the last rose petal falls.

Wonwoo knows that he loves Soonyoung, but did the Tiger ever feel anything for Wonwoo? Maybe he’s just being a fool, thinking those lingering gazes and that dance underneath the star lit sky meant anything. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe that’s why the curse isn’t lifting. Maybe—

A sudden light catches his eye. Wonwoo looks up and the final petal is glowing bright, still hanging from the sepal.

It’s not too late. The final petal is still holding on, and so will Wonwoo.

Scrambling to his feet, Wonwoo runs to one of the side guest rooms and throws open the door. With a surprisingly good aim, he tosses the bronze clutched rolling pin onto the bed.

“I will break the curse,” Wonwoo promises, breathlessly. He turns away and grabs the rose off the floor. Running towards the roof opening, Wonwoo forces the burning oxygen through his lungs.

He will not give up on Soonyoung.

\---

Mingyu opens his eyes and his lips slowly curl into a smile.

He has a lot of dreams like this. He dreams of lying beside Minghao, watching the other sleep and reaching out to caress his cheek. He dreams of holding the other’s hand and kissing the other’s lips and—ah, well, it’s a dream.

In the light of the sun, Minghao is glowing—thick dark hair and smooth skin. The weight for Minghao’s arm on his waist is comforting, and the other arm is curled protectively around Mingyu’s neck. He knows this is a dream, but he hasn’t had such a soothing dream in years. Usually, they’re not touching and Mingyu is always the one to reach out. It—it feels so nice to be in Minghao’s arms again.

Staring at the other’s sleeping face, Mingyu wants to touch so he brings his heavy hand up to Minghao’s cheek, slowly trailing his fingers against the other’s jaw. His fingertips tingle at the warmth, and Mingyu has almost forgotten how it feels to touch skin. It feels to real to be a dream, but all dream feel real until he wakes up.

Minghao groans and shifts like he did so many years ago— _your hands are so coarse_ , Minghao had said, swatting away the cook’s prodding fingers. Mingyu continues, stoking the other’s cheek and waiting for that annoyed eye squint. Slowly but surely, Minghao opens a bleary eye and squints at Mingyu.

“You’re beautiful,” Mingyu whispers, leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. “Even in my dreams, you’re so beautiful.”

“In your dreams?” Minghao snorts. “This isn’t a dream-”—Minghao jumps up on the bed, throwing Mingyu off his arm—“Oh my goodness, _this isn’t a dream_.”

“What?” Mingyu gasps, scrambling up.

“Kim Mingyu,” Minghao whispers, turning to the cook. He grabs Mingyu’s face with both hands and pulls him in for a kiss. They break apart and Minghao stares at him with wild eyes. Giggling, Minghao swoops in for another kiss and then another and then another—and then pulls away, jumping off the bed. “This is _not_ a dream!”

“It’s not a dream,” Mingyu echoes. He tries to step off the bed but his foot catches on the blankets. Minghao catches him before he falls onto the floor, and they spend another moment staring into each other’s eyes. “He did it. Wonwoo-hyung did it.”

“He did,” Minghao agrees, reaching for the other’s hand. Their fingers intertwine and Mingyu never wants to let go. Not after years of pining for the warmth of the other’s hand. “I told you I would hold onto you.”

“You did,” Mingyu laughs, burying his nose in the crook of Minghao’s neck. “You did.”

\---

and they live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the Soonwoo fic in a more Gyuhao focus, but yes, I am planning a Soonwoo Beauty and the Beast fic LOL so if the soonwoo seems sudden, it is. I went from the beginning of the story to the end LOL
> 
> Although this full fic might not be done until mid to late next year :/// I have quite a few projects lined up before this one…


	23. Pretty Creepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [college au] Mingyu is a huge fan of The8, and he gets the chance to tutor his idol.

**Pretty Creepy**

\---

At three in the morning, the library is always quiet.

It doesn’t matter how many students are there. There can be just one lone crammer in the corner or three hundred desperate students spread throughout the cubicles, and the library is quiet all the same.

Three in the morning is the hour of quiet despair, but Mingyu is far from despairing. In fact, he’s a little _too_ elated.

He’s at the library tutoring _the_ Seo Myungho.

Well, he _was_ tutoring Myungho. Now the other student is slowly drifting off into sleep with his chin dipping down every so often and his pen trailing off the paper. And Mingyu watches the other try to fight off the inevitable. Finally, Myungho seems to accept his fate and slumps onto the desk in a dead sleep. Mingyu smothers a giggle.

Seo Myungho is an idol singer in the idol group _Triple P: Picture Perfect Performance_. While the young man is charismatic and gorgeous on stage, Myungho is an adorable, sleepy student in their college.

Without the dark eyeshadow and careful eyeliner, Myungho’s features are soft—almond eyes and button nose. In class, Myungho talks with the cutest little vocal lifts and his voice is surprisingly higher than Mingyu expected.

Mingyu’s used to The8’s aloof stage persona—all smirks and lip bites, and just from that, Mingyu was a fan. Now, knowing Myungho with his overexcited jumping and pitchy giggles, Mingyu is a die-hard fan. He was a first generation Pretty, and he just paid his fees for the third generation Pretty Official Fan Club Membership.

And he may or may not run a fan café for The8. And he may or may not have run quite a few birthday supports—it still makes Mingyu’s heart pound when he sees Myungho wear those gifted accessories to the airport. He’s a Pretty, okay? He lives for these small acknowledgments.

To say Mingyu’s a little infatuated would be an understatement.

At school, he’s quiet about his little fandom involvement. After all, Seokmin already teases him mercilessly for having every single one of The8’s individual posters hanging on his walls. Just imagine if his roommate knew that Mingyu drew _fanart_.

When their nutrition professor calls Mingyu to his office, Mingyu almost stopped breathing when he saw Myungho there in a large hoodie and sweats. He thinks he may have hyperventilated when the professor asked Mingyu to tutor Minghao.

“As you know, Myungho is in Sport and Nutrition,” their professor had said. “Due to his work, he came into our class a little late this year, but he’s expressed the desire to finish the class this semester in order to follow up with the rest of their coursework. So I’m hoping the best student in our class could help him out?”

Mingyu doesn’t remember what exactly he said, but it must have been a yes of some sort. He walked out of his professor’s office with a phone number and a promise to meet up at the library.

And here they are at three in the morning, sitting across from each other on a tiny study table. Minghao is napping with his head pillowed on his arms, and Mingyu is trying and failing to focus on his own work—something about food development in ancient times.

Minghao suddenly sits up with sleep puffed cheeks, takes off his hoodie and fluffs it in a pile on the table. Without much preamble, he buries his face into his hoodie and dozes off again. Mingyu quietly leans away from the table and flails in his chair— _he’s so cute!_  

“What kind of creepy shit are you watching now?”

Startled, Mingyu almost falls out of his chair. He turns with a few very creative swear words on his tongue but then remembers the sleeping beauty across from him.

“Creepy shit?!” Mingyu yells in a whisper. “Hyung, _you_ are the one who watches creepy shit!”

“I don’t know man,” Wonwoo shrugs. “Watching someone sleep is some creepy shit.”

“I am _not_ —” Mingyu says loudly but cuts himself off quickly. He lowers his voice and glares at the elder. “I’m _not_ watching him sleep!”

“Well, it’s equally creepy to flail watching people dirty dancing,” Wonwoo says dryly, pointing at his computer screen. “Although, the blonde is kinda cute.”

Mingyu gasps and snaps shut his laptop. He had his Youtube playlist on autoplay, and it’s just his luck that Wonwoo walks by when the members of Triple P are hip thrusting towards the camera.

“You keep saying Jun’s cute,” Mingyu frowns. “I’m pretty sure you have a type.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo shrugs. “They change their hair and I have no idea who’s who, but if you insist I have a type, sure. I like the Jun one.”

“Why are you here anyway?” Mingyu asks with a deep pout.

“Unlike some kids who are here doing creepy shit in public, some of us are at the library to read and study,” Wonwoo says teasingly, holding up a couple of books in his hand. “To be honest, I’m just here to keep Jihoon company. He’s got an exam tomorrow and needs a coffee courier.”

“Where’s the coffee?” Mingyu asks.

“Just because he needs a coffee courier and I’m here doesn’t mean I’ll actually go out to get him coffee,” Wonwoo shrugs.

“What a friend,” Mingyu applauds in mock awe.

“It’s almost four in the morning. I have morning classes yet I’m still here,” Wonwoo says with a pointed look. “I think that on its own is worth a friendship level up.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Mingyu says, punching Wonwoo’s arm lightly. “Don’t let Jihoon-hyung fall asleep. He’s hell to wake up.”

“Which is why I have coffee,” Wonwoo smirks, fishing out a familiar can out of his jacket pocket.

“I thought you just said—ack, just go hyung,” Mingyu sighs, shoving the other as far as he could without getting up from his seat.

“I said I wouldn’t go out to get it,” Wonwoo laughs, allowing Mingyu to push him. “This is from the vending machine downstairs.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mingyu chants, throwing out his leg. If he tried, Mingyu could probably land a solid kick with his long limbs, but he’s not really trying to cause a ruckus.

“Stay warm,” Wonwoo calls behind him, walking off with his books under one arm and the coffee can in his other hand. “They set the AC temperature really low today for some odd reason.”

“Worry about yourself!” Mingyu whispers loudly. He waves one last time at the other’s back and returns to his blank notebook page. He really should get moving on his own homework—it is kind of cold, huh?

Trying not to seem too creepy, Mingyu glances over at Minghao. The idol singer is still buried in his hoodie without any signs of moving. Mingyu originally didn’t notice because of the overly cute actions, but Minghao is only in a sleeveless t-shirt. Mingyu hears the other sniffle a little and worries—Triple P is preparing for a concert series. The8 couldn’t afford to get sick now!

Mingyu grips his chair and pulls it up against his butt as he rises. Slowly shuffling out, Mingyu sets the chair down quietly. He takes off his own jacket and tiptoes over to the other. Mingyu hesitates—is this a little too familiar or just creepy shit? Minghao coughs a little and shifts in his hoodie pillow.

Fuck it, he’ll just take it off before Minghao wakes up. It’s not like he’s got plans to sleep tonight. With this reassurance, Mingyu drapes his jacket over Minghao’s shoulders and smiles when Minghao pulls the jacket closer. _Cute_.

Stretching out his back and his neck, Mingyu strides back to his seat leisurely. Time to hit the books. Sitting down, Mingyu opens his laptop and pops in his earphones. With the catchy dance tunes in the background, Mingyu begins writing for his own assignment.

_Highlight!_

Mingyu jerks awake at the loud chorus, and the sudden motion rips one of the earphones out. Taking the other one out of his ear, Mingyu realizes he fell asleep at the library. He sits up with a groan and something slips off his shoulders. Looking down, Mingyu blinks at his fallen jacket.

Oh shit, that’s right.

He looks across the table, but it’s unoccupied. Mingyu grabs his jacket off the floor and pulls out his phone from the pockets. It’s already ten in the morning. Thankfully, he doesn’t have class until noon, but Minghao—

Slumping into his chair, Mingyu stares listlessly at his study spread. He shoves his phone back into his jacket pocket, and something slips out as he pulls his hand back out. A folded piece of paper flutters to the floor, and Mingyu picks it up, wondering if this is his missing grocery list. Unfolding the paper, his eyes bulge at the familiar signature.

Mingyu stares dumbly at the autograph for a moment before quickly smoothing out the creases. He’s going to frame this and hang it up on his wall. He doesn’t care how much Seokmin will laugh at him. Mingyu got an autograph from _The8_ , and not just that, the idol also wrote him a message!

_Mingyu,_

_Thanks for tutoring me! I didn’t know you were a fan! Thank you for your support and let me know when our next tutoring session is. I can make my schedule work. ^^ Anything for a Pal!_

Mingyu stares at the last sentence. _Pals_ are what Minghao’s individual fans referred to themselves as. How did he— _oh_ , he looks down at his phone and the infinity sign phone strap stares back at him. Mingyu sent one of these phone straps in Minghao’s birthday present package last year.

Whelp. Time to call Seokmin and confess his sins—the call goes to voicemail. Or not.

_I’m in class! Some people actually pay attention in class >:(_

_Liar_ , Mingyu texts back and gets a winking smiley face in return.

Mingyu moans pitifully and collapses the table with the autograph in one hand and his phone in the other.

Desperately trying to distract himself, he opens his photo gallery in search of a picture of his dog, and the first photo that comes up is a selfie of Minghao posing with Mingyu sleeping in the background.

Mingyu swears he experienced a heart attack at the tender age of twenty-two.

(“Oh, you’re still here,” Wonwoo says, kicking the leg of Mingyu’s chair. “Still looking at creepy shit?”

“I— _no_ ,” Mingyu defends, turning to glare at the elder.

“Oh, hey, he’s into creepy shit too,” Wonwoo chuckles. The older man leans in to take a good look at the picture on Mingyu’s phone screen. “Taking selfies with sleeping people.”)

\---

the end, and chan is unimpressed with this origin story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this was a super short piece but then I just kept writing. I’m also pretty sick so…sigh, I want to be sure I write 31 for the entire month, but my health is declining LOL This is why I’m a couch potatoes. I get sick no matter where I go (other than home) 
> 
> ^^ this is when i started feeling bad LOL I can trace my illness presentation from when I started complaining about my stomach LOOOL


	24. Gucci Belt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [college au] Mingyu just wants Minghao to pay attention to him.

**Gucci Belt**

\---

Mingyu nurses his now warm beer with a pout.

He watches the group play jenga with increasing irritation. After a too competitive round with Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Chan, all four got banned from playing for being too intense— _no one else dares to play with you guys being like this_ , Seungkwan had said and there were eight other nods of agreement. At least, Seungcheol got to cuddle with his boyfriend during Jeonghan’s off turns.

Mingyu had been exiled to the sofa.

“You’re in charge of music,” is his boyfriend’s singular command, handing him a laptop, and Mingyu sits up onto the couch with the computer with a sulk. He goes through the music, inserting some of his own favorites into the playlist, but that only keeps his attention for so long. The laughter and anxious talking from the players and the observers were distracting.

Mingyu takes a drink of his beer and scrunches his  face at the warm carbonation. He could probably go to the kitchen to get some ice, but the journey seemed too long. It had been a good three songs since anyone last paid him any attention, and tipsy Mingyu is an attention seeker.

Or rather he just wants his boyfriend’s attention, but Minghao is preoccupied, laughing about one thing or another.

Sitting in between Junhui and Hansol, Minghao seems to be quite invested in the current game of jenga. Mingyu watches with an amused smile as Minghao smacks Junhui for ‘breathing too hard on the tower.’ His boyfriend examines the tower carefully, searching for a good block to pull loose, and Mingyu can’t help giggling. Minghao looks so cute with his brows furrowed and biting on his lower lip in concentration.

Everyone is holding their breath as Minghao challenges a side block. Seungkwan is chanting, _he’s not going to make it, oh, he’s not going to_ —while Soonyoung is muttering, _he’s going to make it, dammit, he’s going to make it!_

The tower sways and even Mingyu leans in to watch. Minghao pulls it out with a decisive tug, and while the tower is swaying, it finally manages to stay upright. Soonyoung groans as it is  now his turn.

Mingyu cheers and tries to catch Minghao’s eye, but the other is too busy dabbing at his victory. Mingyu slouches back onto the couch moodily. His elbow accidentally knocks into the keyboard and the music playlist changes from a list of songs to the lyrics.

No longer interested in the game, Mingyu scrolls through the lyrics. It’s some English song that surprisingly had the Korean translations next to it. Huh, whatever website this was, Mingyu would have to ask Jihoon for it later.

Something catches his eye. He looks down at his attire and smiles mischievously. Mingyu slowly turns the music louder and louder until it’s audible over the loud chattering of twelve people.

Minghao looks up at him with a questioning gaze, and Mingyu merely smiles. He drops his eyelids to half-mast, raising one eyebrow and bring down the other in an almost squint. Scrunching his nose on one side, Mingyu gives his best open mouth smirk and mouths the lyrics the best he can.

_When I met her in the club I asked her who she felt_

_Then she went and put that booty on that Gucci belt_

Mingyu wriggles his hips on the couch and points suggestively at his Gucci belt.

He should have expected the jenga block thrown at him with expert precision. At least Minghao avoids hitting below the belt, but his stomach still hurts.

(The jenga game ends and Mingyu is still slouched on the couch, rubbing his wounded tummy. The group had dispersed, some to fight for the bathroom, some to the kitchen for more booze and others to the balcony for fresh air.

Minghao collapses onto the couch next to him and gives him a look of exasperation.

“You could have just joined us,” Minghao says.

“You made me in charge of the music,” Mingyu huffs.

“And so you decided to be lame,” Minghao laughs, rubbing Mingyu’s stomach almost apologetically.

“I saw a chance so I took it,” Mingyu says, pretending the other’s touch didn’t make him giddy.

“Maybe later,” Minghao whispers in his ear, and Mingyu suppresses a shiver. Minghao slowly slides his hand down Mingyu’s stomach until he reaches the double G belt buckle. “What was it? _Put that booty on that Gucci belt_.”

And Mingyu does shiver as Minghao tugs on the buckle a little before letting go.

“No funny business on my couch!” Soonyoung yells from the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Minghao calls back. He pulls Mingyu in for a kiss and breathes, “But who said I wouldn’t do it?”

And Mingyu got all the attention he wanted. Maybe even a little more much to Soonyoung dismay.)

\---

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mingyu has a Gucci belt and I heard this song on the radio. That’s it. LOL that’s the story.
> 
> ...and chan is unimpressed with the origin story LOL
> 
> Anyways...akjdf;laksdjf, thanks for bearing with my hiatus. got one more chapter to upload before i succumb to my IV line LOL i am such a sick child ;;A;;


	25. Eraser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soulmate AU] Someone in Minghao's grade dies. Car accident, they said.

**Eraser**

\---

Seven-year-old Myungho knows he should feel sad.

Someone in the other class died—as in would never go home to his parents, his appa said; as in went to heaven and met God, his dad said. The teachers said it was a car accident, and they all left flowers on his desk.

Myungho peaks into the other classroom and sees the growing pile of gifts. He glances down at his own white flower—his dad said it was a chrysanthe-uh, chrysanethenum. Myungho lingers at the door, glancing inside hesitantly.

“Is that for Mingyu?”

Myungho jumps and turns to face a tearful Lee Seokmin. To be honest, Seokmin was his friend in class 2. Seokmin and Mingyu were friends, but Myungho didn’t actually know Mingyu that well. He wonders whether he should have.

“Yeah,” Myungho mutters. He walks through the door and slowly makes his way to Mingyu’s window side seat.

It was weird. He could suddenly see Mingyu sitting there with such vivid detail—the way he sat mostly slouched over the desk, the few stubborn hairs that stuck up, the fingers that tapped the desk impatiently waiting for break, and even the way he laughs with his mouth open like an excited puppy.

And he misses it.

“You still haven’t returned my eraser,” Myungho says quietly, placing the flower down with the rest. He tries to blink back the tears, but they spill over his cheeks. Myungho rubs his eyes furiously to get rid of the evidence, but the tears don’t stop. “I told you to. It was my favorite eraser.”

His shoulder tingles a little, but Myungho pays it no attention. He’s not at the age where he’s interested in soulmates or soulmate marks. He has never actually read the words on his soulmate mark—it hurt his neck to try and twist around to see it.

_can i borrow your eraser?_

Those were the last words of his soulmate, but it would be years later, maybe a twelve-year-old Myungho who asks his dads about it, that he would realize. Then maybe a twelve-year-old Myungho would understand why and cry with his dads rubbing soothing circles into his back— _its okay, its okay, you were too young_.  

But seven-year-old Myungho does not understand. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel sad, just empty like something precious had gone away, like a part of him just disappeared.

He does not understand so he just cries as though his tears could fill the void.

(They don’t.)

\---

“Seungcheol, you were right.”

Seungcheol looks up from his computer in concern. After getting married, Jisoo almost never calls him by his name, preferring nicknames or terms of endearment. And he’s not ready for the heart-wrenching sight of his husband’s grief.

“You were right,” Jisoo whispers in despair. Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. Jisoo falls to his knees, shaking with choked sobs. Seungcheol is quick to embrace his love— _what’s wrong, what happened_. But Jisoo mutters the same phrase over and over again. “You were right, you were right, you were—”

“Shua, I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” Seungcheol says firmly, terrified of the other’s behavior. Jisoo is not usually a crier and much less the type to break down in the middle of their living room. Myungho is coming home from school soon, and Jisoo has always been careful to keep his own sorrows out of their son’s sight. “Alright? Babe, you need to tell what’s wrong.”

Jisoo doesn’t say a word and merely shows Seungcheol what he gripped tightly in his fist: a worn star-shaped eraser. Their son’s favorite eraser.

“Mingyu’s mom gave it to me,” Jisoo croaks. “Mingyu—he, his mark said—”

_“Myungho, what is thirteen plus three?”_

_“Sixteen,” Myungho says proudly._

_“Then why do you have seventeen written here?” Seungcheol questions, pointing at the problem. Myungho frowns and picks up his pencil to cross it out. “Hey, wait, where’s your eraser?”_

_“Oh, someone borrowed it,” Myungho shrugs. He crosses out the 17 and writes in 16. “I told him to—_

“Return it tomorrow because it’s my favorite,” Jisoo says quietly.

Seungcheol hates being right.

\---

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them – aceofultron (tumblr) 
> 
> HI SO BASICALLY, I was writing this from cheolsoo’s perspective and it became a cheolsoo fic LOL I rewrote this so it was actually about gyuhao, but I will probably post the cheolsoo fic separately. 
> 
> HAHAHAHA so okay guys, I got acute gastritis (I feel ur fucking pain wonwoo) and I've been at the end of an IV pole for like the past two days X____x we'll see what happens...BUT WE'RE ALMOST DONE GUYS. WE'VE FINISHED MORE THAN 2/3RDS. of course stupid stuff would happen at the end ;;A;; which is why i'll never travel again (jk i probably won't travel for a good four months tho...)


	26. Cafe Feud: The Not-Quite Romeo and Juliet Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Cafe AU] The owner of Highlight Cafe, Kwon Soonyoung, only has his employee's best interests at heart, and fraternizing with the enemy is a cause of great concern.

**Cafe Feud: The Not-Quite Romeo and Juliet Story**

\---

“Hyung, I’m going on lunch break.”

“Mmkay,” Soonyoung nods in forced nonchalance, watching his target walk into the breakroom. He leans towards the door of the break room, but there was no way he could see in with the door only slightly ajar. Soonyoung quickly turns back to the espresso machine and waves cheerfully as his target jogs out of the café. “Have a good lunch break!”

“Will be back soon,” his target calls from the door and walks out into the busy street.

Soonyoung fiddles uselessly with the espresso machine for a couple more moments much to Chan’s annoyance— _hyung, if you’re going to be in the way, please do it somewhere else_. He waits until his target disappears past the café windows and then immediately relinquishes his hold on the machine.

“I’m going out really quick!” Soonyoung blurts out, sprinting into the break room to throw down his apron. He walks towards the café doors with purpose.

“Where are you going?” Chan asks, leaning over the espresso machine in a panic. “We _need_ three people here during lunch!”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Soonyoung winks, giving their youngest employee a thumbs up.

“Have fun,” Junhui calls from the cash register.

“No, hyung, not _have fun_ ,” Chan says. “It’s  _don’t go because_ —”

Already out the door, Soonyoung doesn’t hear the rest of Chan’s tirade, and honestly, he doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what the younger would say— _you are the owner of this café!_ But this mission is for the café. It is a mission to protect his loved ones in _Highlight_ café from the snobby employees at _Lean on Me_ coffee bar down the street.

Soonyoung spots his target already halfway down the street. He goes from tree to tree, concealing himself and peering around the thin trunks. Soonyoung even utilizes the signs and hanging advertisements to disguise himself.

Is that a little skip in his target’s step?

Any other day, his target would have turned and stared at him with an exasperated look— _hyung, what are you even doing_? But today, his distracted target makes a beeline towards the other coffee shop.

His target is Seo Myungho, one of his most loyal and trusted employees. The man is a twenty-two-year-old college student who spent most of his week either in his dance studio or the café. Soonyoung really likes Myungho because he’s a hard worker and the most adaptable employee Soonyoung’s ever had. He trusts Myungho with his café keys—that’s how much he trusts the younger.

But, just two days ago, Soonyoung found a coffee cup from the _Lean on Me_ coffee bar in their break room trash can with _Myungho <3_ scribbled on the side.

And just as he feared, Myungho stops in front of the coffee bar.

“Myungho, you’re here!”

“You actually got me flowers? Ugh.”

“But you like them, right?”  

Soonyoung dives behind the A frame sign in front of their local florist. While crouching on one knee, he didn’t know he had a _second_ target, but that makes sense. Myungho isn’t the type to stray without a lure—a lure that is a handsome, six-foot tall and flower gifting employee from the competitor’s coffee shop.

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the _actual_ fuck—?”

Startled, Soonyoung grabs the poor florist and pulls him behind the small sign with a firm hand over the other’s mouth. Struggling against him, Lee Jihoon is most _definitely_ glaring a hole through his skull, but Soonyoung is on a mission. He cannot let small things like dying a painful death at the hands of a florist deter him.

“What am I going to do with flowers?”

“Put them in a vase and think of me!”

“Why would I want to be thinking of you?”

Soonyoung peers around the sign and watches his two targets slowly disappear down the street. Myungho plays with the small bouquet behind his back, and yep, his employee is definitely skipping. He hasn’t seen Myungho act so bashful since—huh. To be honest, Soonyoung has never seen Myungho act like that—like a schoolboy with a crush.

The realization dawns on Soonyoung. Oh _no_. Myungho, no—!   

Taking advantage of his distracted state, Jihoon launches out of his hold and turns around to grab the A frame sign off the street. The florist swings the sign at Soonyoung, and the poor barista sees his life flashing before his eyes. Kneeling on the sidewalk, Soonyoung closes his eyes and prays death comes swiftly.

“Do that again and I’ll actually hit you with this,” Jihoon threatens. Soonyoung opens one eye hesitantly, who knows? Maybe Jihoon wants Soonyoung to face death with open eyes? He finally relaxes once Jihoon places the sign down. “Get up. You’re embarrassing me and the rest of the people on the street.”

Soonyoung scrambles up and is about to chase after his targets, but Jihoon grabs the back of his shirt, yanking the barista towards him.

“Jihoon, I—”

“Mingyu’s a good kid, and I support this budding romance,” Jihoon says dryly. “So no, you are not allowed to run interference.”

“You sold him _flowers_ ,” Soonyoung accuses, turning around and glaring. Jihoon is still holding onto the back of his shirt so it twists uncomfortably against his stomach. “I knew you played for the other team!”

“I _gave_ him the flowers,” Jihoon sighs. “I said he was a good kid, not a smart kid. He doesn’t know the first steps to wooing anyone.”

“And you do?” Soonyoung questions with a teasing smile, but then remembers his original task. “Don’t distract me! I need to save my Myungho from the clutches of Choi Seungcheol’s minions!”

“I don’t get what’s going on between you and Seungcheol-hyung,” Jihoon says with a squint. “But this café feud has gone on for too long on my turf.”

“On _your turf—_ ”

“My flower shop is right in between your two cafés and yes, this is _my turf_ ,” Jihoon says in dead seriousness. Any arguments Soonyoung had withers at the other’s sharp look. The florist looks at him with a contemplating look. “They really like each other. I’ll let you go so you can see for yourself.”   

Jihoon releases his hold on Soonyoung’s shirt, and the barista quickly pulls away. He puffs his cheeks at the florist and glowers.

“If I hear any Soonyoung-looking trouble happened,” Jihoon warns, fixing his sign with a threatening caress. “I know where you live.”

“I got it, I got it,” Soonyoung sighs. “I won’t do anything. I’m just worried what happened with Jun will happen to Myungho.”

“At least you have good intentions, I guess,” Jihoon shrugs. He brushes the top of the A frame sign once more before walking towards the open door of his store. “No funny business, Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Pinky promise,” Soonyoung agrees, running up to Jihoon and hooking their pinkies together. He bounces their intertwined pinkies a couple times. “Or stick a thousand needles in my eye.”

“Oh, I will,” Jihoon scowls, hanging onto the other’s pinky swear for just a moment longer.

“Be back later,” Soonyoung calls, letting go and running off toward the direction of his targets.

Jihoon stomps back into the flower shop with frown.

The small shop is well organized with shelves of various flowers. While it gets a little cramped at times, it’s enough for him and his four employees—one currently sitting at the cashier register, one spraying down the freshly cut bouquets and two who are mysteriously missing. It’s not much, but it’s home.

“Are you okay?” Jisoo asks in concern, pausing his work. He quickly pushes away the checkbooks and jogs towards their boss. “You look flushed.”

Jeonghan looks up from spraying water on the flowers and rolls his eyes, muttering something that suspiciously sounds like— _must be Soonyoung again, who else?_

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jihoon scowls.

“So what happened to Jun-hyung?” Seungkwan asks. Turning around in shock, Jihoon reels at the sight of his last two employees, crouching behind the flower stands in front of the door. Seungkwan and Seokmin dust off their knees and crowd Jihoon with shining lights in their eyes. “Hyung, what happened?”

“Jun got coffee poured down his shirt,” Jihoon says evenly after collecting himself. “That’s it.”

“Oh, wait, isn’t that what Mingyu did to Myungho though?” Seokmin questions. “Ah, Jihoon-hyung, wait!”

But Jihoon is already halfway to his office. He closes the door and locks it. He’s not going to take any more questions about this _stupid_ café feud. Both Soonyoung and Seungcheol need to grow up.

And it is just too bad that Jihoon likes one of those idiots.

\---

It’s almost romantic, sneaking away to have lunch together and trying to avoid the eyes of their feuding employers.

Minghao sniggers at his own Romeo and Juliet comparison.

“What’s up?” Mingyu asks with a lopsided grin.

Lunch had been a quick thing of kimbab and milk tea, but it’s long enough to sit together with their knees knocking together and laugh over absolutely nothing. It’s enough to get them through the workday. For now, they’re walking as slowly as possible back towards their own respective coffee shops.

“Do you think your boss will ever confess to Jun-hyung?” Minghao asks. He avoids telling the truth—after all, Romeo and Juliet did not have an ideal ending. If Minghao had been either Romeo _or_ Juliet, he would have just fought his way out or taken off with Mingyu. He’ll make his own happy ending, thank you very much.

“Seungcheol-hyung? Nah,” Mingyu scoffs, scrunching his nose in a face of disbelief. “He’s pretty sure Jun-hyung hates him.”

“That’s Soonyoung-hyung,” Minghao says dryly. He leans into Mingyu’s side and bites back a smile when Mingyu’s hand automatically seeks his own. “Jun-hyung still has your boss’s wallet.”

“Oh my fucking god, Seungcheol-hyung actually got his ID and all his credit cards reissued,” Mingyu groans, jumping in frustration. “It took such a long time! Even though we found an investor pretty soon after he ‘lost’ his wallet, we couldn’t do anything until he got his documents together again!”

“He actually got them all reissued?” Minghao giggles.

“Yeah, and it was like the most _horrible_ time because we weren’t sure whether the investor would wait and—”

Minghao smiles and watches Mingyu talk. He’s not really listening to every single word, but he’s hanging onto every change of the other’s expression. Mingyu is truly—

— _thud_ , two people roll out of the bushes, and one of them is embarrassingly familiar to Minghao. A quick glance at a completely mortified Mingyu tells him who the other must be.

\---

“Soo—Soonyoung-hyung?”

“Seungcheol-hyung, why are you—?”

The two guilty café owners glare at each other with twigs and leaves sticking out of their hair. They both took quite the tumble in the bushes from the shock of seeing each other, and it is just their luck that they landed quite literally in front of Minghao and Mingyu.

Jihoon swings his sign frame twice that day.

\---

(How the feud started:

Seungcheol wandered in _Highlight_ café after another failed investor meeting.

He was a broke twenty-seven year old man who did not have the funds to start his own business from scratch, and to be honest, Hansol’s idea of a coffee bar was hard to sell—“So instead of alcohol shots, we have espresso shots!” “So a coffee shop.” “Uh, that looks like a bar!”

Tired and ready to call it a day, Seungcheol trudged to the cashier and marveled at the menu. One day, he thought to himself, one day, he’ll convince an investor that their coffee bar was worth putting money into.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Seungcheol looked up at the cashier with his usual— _café latte with half a pump of vanilla and a splash of strawberry_ but the usual words die in his throat. He hasn’t met any angels in his lifetime—Jeonghan sneezed at home, but he’s pretty sure the handsome barista must be one. Seungcheol’s not a fan of blonde hair, but the platinum color was ethereal. It fit the barista’s defined jaw, tall nose and strong brow.

Seungcheol took a peek at the other’s nametag – _Jun ^o^._ From today on, all angels were to be named Jun—Jeonghan sneezed again.

“Uh, sir?”

Seungcheol snapped his jaw shut and stuttered something— _cafa latter hafapump valra er plash strawbewwy_. The barista smiled nervously—the corner of his lips didn’t go up.

_Oh fuck, he must think I’m crazy_ , Seungcheol moaned internally. He coughed, pretending to clear out imaginary phlegm.

“A café latte with uh, half a pump of vanilla and—” Seungcheol began.

“A splash of strawberry?” the barista added on. The tension melted away from the barista’s shoulder, and his smile perked up.

“I—yeah,” Seungcheol mumbled. Oh dear lord, he was cute and he could understand Seungcheol’s gibberish.

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” the barista said, ringing up the purchase. With his file folder under one arm, Seungcheol fumbled with his wallet, but instead of waiting for payment, the barista closed the cash register and teared off the receipt. “On the house! Consider this a thank you for the confidence booster in my Korean learning!”

“Thank you!” Seungcheol squeaked. He dropped half of his coins on the floor and waved off the friendly offer of help. Crouching down on the floor, Seungcheol wondered whether the heavens were finally gifting him something after twenty-seven-years of misery. He had already picked up all the fallen coins, but he stayed down for a moment longer to calm his racing heart.

“Um, here’s your coffee?”

Seungcheol jumped and smacked his head against the offered coffee cup. If it had drenched him, Seungcheol would have taken it as a gift still, but instead, the coffee cup faced inward—and ended up on the cute barista’s shirt and apron. Even though the drink must have been scalding, the barista merely inhaled quickly and bit his lip, holding the offending cup away.

Seungcheol froze in distress and his file folder fell to the floor. This was the heavens punishing him. It must be.

“What happened— _Moon Junhui!_ ” another employee cried, running up to the now wet barista.

“ _Ig sowrie!_ ” Seungcheol choked, throwing his wallet at the barista. “ _Compensation!_ ”

Seungcheol turned tail and ran, leaving both his wallet and his café plans.)

(“What a jerk!” Soonyoung complained, wiping down the wet counter. “He could have at least said _sorry_! Why did he throw his wallet at you? Was the coffee drencher not enough?!”

“He did,” Junhui smiled, flipping through the printed presentation slides, but Soonyoung didn’t hear him as he continued to rage. “A coffee bar? That’s kind of cute.”

Junhui finished changing and excused himself to make a couple of calls. There were perks to being an ex-child actor. He knew quite a few very wealthy investors.

Four months later, _Lean on Me_ coffee bar opened down the street much to Soonyoung’s dismay.)

\---

the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi normal updating speed LOL So hi, as I said previously, I got acute gastritis *distant laughter * and I spent two days under an IV pole. I’m going to try to stay caught up (and maybe I’ll have to cheat a little) but if I disappear again, the gastritis has got me LOL 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!!! ^^ This was fun to write altho gyuhao's relationship almost felt like a side pairing hahaha LOL I had to sneak in the juncheol for my own writing pleasures LOL (i got lots of rare ships that i really like and imma just...write...them...all so sorry if they're ur notps!!! just focus on the gyuhao!!) 
> 
> We're getting closer and closer to the end! Hope you guys have been enjoying this smattering of fics and the waning end of october! ^^ <3 Thank you for all the birthday and get well wishes!!! It's been a blessing to be writing this October and hopefully I'll be able to make this a yearly thing...


	27. The Dragon and the Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Mystic AU] Minghao is a dragon, and Mingyu is one of his destined phoenixes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long - dragon  
> Feng Huang - pheonix (feng → male phoenix, huang → female phoenix)  
> Ying - relating to nighttime, water, darkness  
> Yang - relating to daytime, fire, light  
> Qi - life power or something like that lol

**The Dragon and the Phoenix**

\---

Xu Minghao isn’t used to feeling anxious. He is a strong martial artist, a protector of their guild, a master of the sky— _he’s a fucking dragon_.

Dragons are brave and strong and fierce and fearless and _lonely_. It’s so lonely in their cloud shrouded dwellings.

According to legend, the First Dragon saved a young fire god from drowning in the sea. In response, the thankful gods built jade palaces and carved marble thrones for their dragon ancestor. Located on the tallest mountains beyond the cloud layers, these palaces mirrored those of the heavens above. The gods also blessed the dragon with god-like status—superior and untouchable.

But the top of the mountain was also a lonely place to be. For a once wild and free creature, the First Dragon was miserable to be stuck in one place, looking after the constricting estate. The dragon longed to be free or, if nothing else, to not be so lonely.

The fire god saw its savior’s misery with tearful eyes and cried—it’s tears endlessly falling upon the open land. Falling from the heavens, the fire tears burnt into ashes and became two piles on the land. The fire god cried and prayed to its Mother— _please help the Dragon or if not, soothe its pain_.

Mother Earth having heard her child’s cry blew life into the ashes, and from the ashes, _Feng_ and _Huang_ burst forth. With their wings ablaze, Feng and Huang flew through the cold cloud layer and into the jade palace, bringing with them the ashes of their birth.

_We are your companions_ , Feng had said. The ash fell off, and his bright crown of feathers glistened in the blazing sunlight.

_Together we are the phoenixes and you are the dragon_ , Huang had said. The ash fell off, and her sweeping tail spread out like solid sunshine on the jade floors.

And to this day, every dragon has a _Feng_ and a _Huang_.

Minghao is a very lucky dragon. He met his _Feng_ very young. The male phoenix stumbled into his life quite literally during Minghao’s coming of age ceremony—to be more accurate, the young phoenix lost balance in the harsh winds and fell from the sky like a shooting star, destroying half of the festive decorations in a blaze of fiery glory.

Minghao met his _Feng_ in a sky of ashes, and they say that it’s the most fortunate of meetings.

Kim Mingyu is his _Feng_ , the male phoenix of Minghao’s destined pair, and Minghao has absolutely no complaints. He has the best phoenix partner in the world, and while Junhui casually hints at a bias, Minghao sticks to his assessment—with objectivity, of course.

His human form is pleasing without a doubt, but Mingyu is a true phoenix through and through. While most phoenixes burn red or orange flames, Mingyu’s flames are pure gold—his golden feathers are comparable to that of the original _Feng_ and _Huang_ of legend. When Mingyu spreads his wings, Minghao feels like he’s beside the sun, and as a _ying_ centered dragon, there’s nothing more comfortable or soothing than the warmth of his fated phoenix.

Of course, Mingyu is also stubborn and wordy and often anxious, but Mingyu is _his_ phoenix so Minghao takes it all in stride gracefully.

(“ _Gracefully_? Yesterday, the two of you were arguing over who gets to use the bathroom first in the morning,” Seungcheol says with a one-eyed squint. “If _that’s_ graceful, then both my phoenixes are pure and innocent.”

“Are we not?” Jeonghan teases.

“I’m hurt,” Jisoo says softly in disappointment, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Here I thought our dragon was supposed to love and protect us.”

Seungcheol groans and gives Minghao a look— _these two are definitely not so graceful my ass_. Minghao finds it hard to argue with his senior so he sips his tea and watches the phoenixes give Seungcheol a hard time.)

As infuriating as Mingyu can be, the phoenix understands. He understands when to give Minghao space, and when Minghao really just wants to be wrapped up in a fiery blanket. They squabble a lot, yes, but it gives Minghao a sense of intimacy he—he doesn’t remember ever having that with anyone.

“I said _no_!” the phoenix snaps.

“Just let me go do my job,” Minghao growls, trying and failing to shove his phoenix out of the way. It doesn’t help that his fever riddled body is making it hard to put strength behind his movements. “Stop trying to stop me!”

“I’m not trying to stop you! I’m trying to give you a hug!” Mingyu retorts, standing firmly in the doorway.

“Well, stop trying to give me a hug!” Minghao yells, but it’s no louder than a croak.

“But everyone likes hugs!” Mingyu complains with his arms wide open and his jaw set in a stubborn frown. “It’ll help you feel better I swear!”

“I—wait, Mingyu, I’m just,” Minghao stutters, but he doesn’t avoid the other’s embrace when Mingyu marches forward.

Maybe it’s because he’s cold and Mingyu’s just so warm or maybe the fever’s gone to his head, but the dragon melts into the other’s arms. Even though he was fighting it tooth and nail earlier, Minghao allows his _Feng_ to maneuver him back into bed.

“I’m just?” Mingyu asks, tucking the covers in.

“Not used to it,” Minghao mumbles into his pillow. “But I like it. I think.”

“Everyone likes hugs,” Mingyu scoffs. “Even grumpy and sick dragons like you.”

And Minghao thinks it’s true. He’s just never had many hugs before.

Growing up, Minghao was very lonely. He’s a rare _ying_ centered dragon with a calling to the moon instead of the sun. He’s a dragon of the dark night rather than the sun lit sky. His stone of fate is a black obsidian rather than a clear jade. And because of these differences, Minghao lived alone and isolated for many years. Grown and strong, Minghao can now be active in either day or night—he’s in control of his _qi_. Even so, he knows his peers fear him, and to this day, some still look at him with weary eyes.  

No one has ever dared to argue with him or challenge him the way Mingyu does. No one has ever told Minghao that how he made the bed was inefficient or how he cooked food was below a mortal’s level. But, at the same time, no one has ever watched Minghao dance the same way Mingyu does—in awe with his mouth open like a silent prayer.

“If you keep dancing like that,” Mingyu says often. “You’ll lure the moon away from her place. She already cannot take her eyes off you, shining her full light every time you dance.”

“Which is why I only dance once a month,” Minghao answers simply. “Or the mortals complain that there’s no difference between day and night.”

“My dragon is a tease,” Mingyu laughs, causing small sparks in the air, and some of these sparks fly off, settling into the night sky as stars. “I will remember that.”

“With you, I am not teasing,” Minghao says quietly, and he wonders if Mingyu is the only one who doesn’t see it.

In fact, his phoenix was the _only one_ in many aspects. Mingyu is the only one who’s ever asked whether his old scars still hurt or whether the gods’ missions to punish the mortals were painful to carry out. He’s the only one who held Minghao’s bruised knuckles and kissed them gently without asking.

Mingyu is also the only one Minghao has ever felt warmth for in his cold _ying_ blood.

Minghao is perfectly fine with just being dragon and _Feng_. But without a doubt, where there is a _Feng_ , there must be a _Huang_.

It’s not uncommon for the _Feng_ and _Huang_ of a dragon to be mated—in fact, it’s strange if they’re not. They are tears of the right and left eye of the fire god, and even in dispute, they are still on the same page.

But Minghao—the selfish, greedy and possessive dragon, he doesn’t _want_ Mingyu to mate with his _Huang_. He wants Mingyu for himself, and he doesn’t know what to do when his _Feng_ bounds up to him one day:

“I know who our _Huang_ is!” Mingyu exclaims in excitement one day. He runs down the jade hallways, leaving a trail of dying embers. “She presented late, but I’m more than certain it’s her!”

“Oh,” Minghao responds with a stiff smile.

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it’s her!” Mingyu continues with a bright grin. The sun outside pales in comparison. “She’s at my hometown so I’ll take a quick trip home to bring her here!”

“You know her well?” Minghao asks. His claws dig into the jade walls, and tiny little fissures crack around his nails. He knows he’ll be scolded later, but he needs to keep his expression pleasant.

“Of course!” Mingyu answers. “I’ll be back in three days’ time! Don’t follow me! It’ll be a surprise! You’ll love her!”

And it takes every scale on his body not to trail behind the other’s trek.

(“He’ll be back in two more moons,” Junhui sighs, stroking the other’s scales gently. Instead of their usual vibrancy, Minghao’s scales are muted. He’s just like the moon—dark without the light of the sun, and Junhui, a _yang_ dragon, doesn’t understand. “Just hang in there. Who knows? He may still fancy you even after meeting the _Huang_.”)

He’s not upset nor is he pining. He’s just moody— _yeah, because that sounds very unaffected_ — Seungcheol snorts. Minghao’s a mother-fucking dragon—! He deflates. Dragons are incomplete without their phoenix pair.

Minghao knows the power imbalance between him and Mingyu will calm with their _Huang_. He knows ultimately the _Long, Feng_ and _Huang_ must come together, and as the dragon, Minghao will take upon the duty to love them as he should.

And if his _Feng_ and _Huang_ choose each other, Minghao will accept it as gracefully as he can. He will only destroy one mountain range.

(“I can’t believe we’re a _Feng Huang_ pair,” she complains, shuffling through the dark forest with a pout. “I thought that once you presented and left, I would be free of you.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Mingyu asks, kicking up sparks with every step. Mother Earth breathes life into each falling ember, and the fireflies help light their dark path. “You’re a _Huang_!”

“I’d rather be a mortal,” she sighs, but she secretly enjoys the golden glow of her skin. It’s beautiful, and she hears that their dragon is even more so— _Minghao is like a glistening belt of stars in the moonlight sky_ , Mingyu had said.

“I’m glad that you are my _Huang_ ,” Mingyu admits, slowing in his steps. “I was worried.”

“What? That you’d have to mate with your _Huang_ because it’s tradition?” she asks dryly. She’s seen his face when Mingyu speaks of Minghao, and she’s not about to get in between that. Not that she wants to. Ew, _gross_. “Don’t worry, dear brother of mine. You can have your little _Long Feng_ romance.”

“I didn’t say anything about romance—” Mingyu retorts, but his younger sister interrupts swiftly.

“Don’t bullshit me,” she says, rolling her eyes and shoving past her brother. “I’m your _Huang_. And even if I weren’t, you’re so obvious.”)

\---

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried for something more weird and mythicalish whatever. Lol OKAY BUT ACTUALLY, the whole idea of Long (dragon) Feng (phoenix). Peeps always think the dragon (male) and phoenix (female) BUT actually, phoenixes in full are called feng huang. And originally, feng are male and huang are female. So technically, we got 1 dragon + 2 phoenixes. Which is why sometimes you see dragon + phoenix and sometimes you see phoenix + phoenix decorations.
> 
> I got plot holes galore here LOL
> 
> OKAY so technically, Feng à male phoenixes and Huang à female phoenixes, but woah Seungcheol has both Jisoo and Jeonghan. Does it mean one of them is a girl? No. What it does mean is that Seungcheol lost his Huang (and in normal circumstances, destroying one of the trinity destroys the remaining two) but Jisoo stepped in to balance it so Seungcheol and Jeonghan wouldn’t die.
> 
> I got a whole AU for this whole Feng/Huang/dragon trinity thing going on LOL but I don’t think imma write this one ‘cause…I don’t have a story? It just have a collection of how each of the trinities meet up LOL which means yes! I got female kpop idols in mind too, but meeeeh, probably not gonna write ://// too many projects already and originally this was a lot shorter LOL
> 
> Heh heh I’m feeling a lot better now ^^ but still not…quite up to par with my normal writing speed so if things seem a little jumbled…bare with me. ;;A;;


	28. Dear Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Band Fic] Twenty-seven-year-old Mingyu ends up in 2017.

**Dear Myself**

\---

If anyone asked what kind of person Mingyu wanted to be in seven years, he would have answered: still working hard in Seventeen as a rapper and singer and artist and model and Min-housewife and—but now—he has a different answer.

Self-proclaimed, _twenty-seven-year-old_ Kim Mingyu is staring at Xu Minghao with misty eyes and a strange smile as though he knows some secret but cannot tell. And when they make eye contact, the older Mingyu smiles with practiced ease and Minghao looks away shyly, flushing pink.  

Staring at a youthful, but older Kim Mingyu, _twenty-year old_ Mingyu decides _that_ is not the kind of person he wants to be.

(Lies. He wants to be able to fluster Minghao like that with just a smile. But, just on principle, he hates himself. Not that it makes any sense, but _still_.)

\---

It couldn’t have been more anticlimactic.

They had been taking a break from practice. Everyone had been lounging around, drinking water, or reviewing their last practice run. It was just another practice day so when the door opened and the older Mingyu walked in with a casual greeting, no one gave him a second glance.

Not even Wonwoo who had been sitting _next_ to Mingyu.

Finally, it was Chan who looked at the older Mingyu and asked, “Wait, when did you dye your hair?”

Everyone had looked up. Mingyu’s hair was as black as can be, but there he was, Kim Mingyu standing next to Seungcheol with ashy blonde.

And all hell broke loose.

(Okay, fine. It hadn’t been that anticlimactic. It was just Mingyu couldn’t even compute the situation and just ended up staring at himself, er, his older self in complete shock. Minghao muttered something about birds building a nest in his open mouth.)

\---

“Oh man, you won’t believe what kind of—”

Mingyu closes the door just as laughter bursts forth. He can’t deny that he’s charming in the future. It’s probably the result of years of MCing and going on variety shows, but Mingyu’s still frustrated. He can’t stop noticing the way Minghao leans closer as the elder tells stories and jokes. The worst part of it is the adoring look that Minghao gives— _fuck_ —he’s jealous of himself.

Mingyu walks two steps to one of the beds and drops into it, letting the mattress spring him back up a couple times. It takes a good half minute for him to settle into the bed, when there’s another burst of laughter. This time, he can hear Minghao’s clear giggles over everyone else’s.

Shit.

Mingyu mutters like a mantra: He’s not jealous of himself, he is _not_ jealous of himself, he _is not_ jealous. He prays the repetition will make it true. It doesn’t, and he still hears the group outside chattering.

The door opens and someone steps into the room. Mingyu doesn’t look up, assuming one of his roommates is just grabbing something, but the door closes and the footsteps come up to his bed.

“Sick of yourself?” Minghao teases. “Now you know how we feel.”

Turning to face the other boy, Mingyu has a retort at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t get to say it. It dies on his lips as Minghao crawls over him, squeezing into the space between him and the wall.

“Maybe now you’ll be quieter,” Minghao huffs, situating himself against Mingyu’s chest. The taller boy is silent, lips pressed into a thin line. Minghao rolls his eyes and suddenly digs his fingers into the other’s side. Mingyu yelps loudly and glares at Minghao with wounded eyes. “Stop pouting. You’ll get there one day. He _is_ you.”

Mingyu blinks, still rubbing his smarting side. How did—?

“You’re too obvious to me,” Minghao smiles. “I get you best, remember?”

\---

All the members in the living room saw Mingyu leave for his room and Minghao follow not too long after. They all heard Mingyu exclaim loudly thanks to the thin walls and the unintelligible whispers that followed.

“Are you and Myungho-hyung like this in the future too?” Seungkwan asks. He looks annoyed but anyone can hear the fondness in his voice. “Always in your own secret world?”

“Sometimes,” the older Mingyu admits quietly. He stares longingly at the closed door, and no one dares disturb him. “We used to be like this, huh?”

_We used to, what does_ that _mean—_ oh.

_Oh_.

\---

[this ain't the end, i have like 3K+ of this just sitting on a word doc, damn, we are _not_ done.] 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i’m cheating ‘cause i spent a long time packing last night so i didn’t have time to finish what was supposed to be for today HA HA HA HAAAA. So this is ACTUALLY a part of a much longer fic that i’ve been writing for...half a year now? 
> 
> When will that finish? Oh god, who knows, but this IS a part of a longer fic so y’all can look forward to that. I should be home in the next 24 hrs! Hopefully, my next update~ I’ll be home~!
> 
> Altho my next update will be a little (if not very) delayed ;;A;;


	29. last christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Supernatural AU] Last Christmas, Minghao gave his heart away. (aka. The doctor's perspective on the transplanting a witch's heart into a human's body.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Makes the most sense if you've read "last christmas i gave you my heart (maybe next year)"

**last** **christmas**

\---

“I can’t believe I took the case,” the doctor says quietly into her empty office. “I can’t believe I agreed to transplant a _witch’s_ heart into a _human_ body.”

She looks at her computer screen and Kim Mingyu’s headshot stares back at her. Leaning back in her chair, the doctor groans in frustration. She knows why the hospital director pushed for the operation: publications and grants.

There has yet to be a successful cross-species heart transplant. As doctors, they had a duty to tell their patients about the non-existent success rate, and even the most desperate choose to wait. And right after the holidays, they got someone knocking on their door for a heart transplant. The hospital director saw it as a belated Christmas present, and she saw Kim Mingyu as a stupid child.

“You could die,” she said to him.

“I know,” Kim Mingyu acknowledged. He rolled a small earring hoop in between his fingers, fidgeting with the jewelry ever so often. “But—this would mean a lot to my partner. You know how traditionally witches exchange hearts to be mated and yeah.”

“No cross-species heart transplant has been successful,” she tried. Even then, she had known how excited the hospital director was for this.

“No one has ever tried to transplant a witch’s heart into a human,” Mingyu said. She had been a little impressed. At least the stupid boy did some research. “In the past, all the transplants were human hearts to other species. In all consideration, witches and humans have the most similar heart structure.”

“I could kill you,” she said frankly. It had been a little unsettling how easily she could visualize the young man dying on the operating table.

“I’m aware of that,” Mingyu said.

“Is this what you really want?” she asked, tilting her chin up to look him in the eye.

“Yes,” Mingyu answered, staring straight back. She smiled. At least the stupid boy had manners. It was rude to lie to fairies while maintaining eye contact. “You are the leading specialist in cross-species transplant. I came to you for a reason.”

“Leading specialist doesn’t mean much when we’ve never succeeded,” the doctor shrugged. “Even if we managed to transplant it safely, there’s always a chance of organ rejection.”

“Myungho’s heart would never reject me,” Mingyu declared. “I’m not worried about that.”

“Well I’m glad one of us isn’t,” the doctored muttered. “Alright, Kim Mingyu. You’ve got the attention of the entire medical community. Once we start, there’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

And even today, she’s not too sure whether Kim Mingyu truly _knew_ what he got himself into. She says a quiet prayer, may He be watching over them.

Her phone rings and she picks up the call with a smile.

“How was my darling son’s day?” she coos, laughing at the other’s grimace. Slowly, she packs her bags, listening to her son talk. “Myungho? Your college roommate? Of course, I remember him!”

Dr. Hong pauses at the opened patient profile and sighs quietly. There was so much preparation to be done—tests, labs and pretreatments. _Mom? You still there?_  She closes the patient profile and logs off her computer.

“I’m still listening Jisoo-yah,” she responds.

She’ll figure out this peculiar case of Kim Mingyu later.

\---

The operation was a success, and he woke up the next day with no evidence of a heart transplant other than the surgery scar.

The medical community went crazy, and she forcibly discharged him almost a year later. There was no point in keeping the young man at the hospital. All his tests were normal and— _he’s a human being and not a lab rat!_

She made a follow up appointment as a courtesy. Imagine her surprise when he called her back saying he would be there after New Year’s.

\---

“Mrs. Hong?”

The doctor looks up from her patient chart and smiles brightly, “Oh Myungho! I haven’t see you for so long!”

“You were the doctor who did Mingyu’s transplant?” Minghao asks.

“How do you know—oh, _oh_ ,” Dr. Hong realizes, looking past the witch. Mingyu stands behind him and waves. “You are his witch.”

“I am,” Minghao answers, flushing a little. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“He’s an idiot,” she says bluntly.

“I know,” Minghao laughs. He merely flinches away as Mingyu pokes him with an offended _hey_.

“Was it worth it?” Dr. Hong asks, glancing at Minghao. She gives him the opportunity to avoid her gaze, but he meets it with a grin.

“Yes,” Minghao answers simply, placing his hand over Mingyu’s heart. “Every single heartbeat.”

\---

[last Christmas i gave you my heart, and this Christmas you gave me yours](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9078544)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did the doctor’s POV! :D Makes the most sense if you’ve read last Christmas!
> 
> LOL SO THE DOCTOR WASN’T ORIGINALLY GONNA BE JISOO’S MOM, but ‘cause I wanted the whole ‘you don’t lie to a faire when looking into their eyes’ thing so yeah. Became Joshua’s mom and literally I don’t know anything about her so I made her a straightforward doctor. If you noticed? She talks in statements ‘cause she knows peeps feel pressured to answer her questions truthfully. So if you noticed? In the previous story, Jisoo also kinda talked in statements? So fairies talking in statements to try and relieve the constant fear of needing to answer them truthfully—especially in a healthcare setting? :D okay, imma shut up.


	30. Pretty Guardian Kim Mingyu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Zodiac Guardian AU] Sixteen-year-old Kim Mingyu realizes his destiny as a Zodiac Guardian! With Bongbong to guide him, Mingyu finds new friends and fights evil foes. He may or may not find love on the way.

**Pretty Guardian Kim Mingyu**

 

\---------

 

**Episode 1 - The Ram is Born: Mingyu’s Beautiful Transformation**

“Mingyu, hurry up! It’s starting!”

Sixteen-year-old Kim Mingyu sprints the last few steps up the hill just in time to see the first firework go up into the night sky. It explodes, scattering glittering pieces of light. A second, a third and then a fourth erupt.

“Aren’t you glad we chose this spot?” Lee Seokmin yells over the loud booms. He runs over to  Mingyu and pulls him towards the center of the clearing.

“It’s the best here!” Kwon Soonyoung calls, waving them over.  

Mingyu runs up the hill, trying to catch his breath,  but the sparkling sky and thundering noise spurs him on. Another flower lights up the sky, and Mingyu whoops loudly, reaching into the air as though he could catch the falling embers. Reds, greens, blues, bright whites—Mingyu and his friends scream with each explosion.

But as all good things, it ends much too quickly. Soon, all that remains are the smoky trails lingering in the sky.

This is it. The end of their summer.

“Woah, we should come back here next year,” Soonyoung says, still breathing hard. “That was so pretty.”

“We should come back _every_ year,” Seokmin amends, pushing the elder playfully.

“Hm, I think I’m going to need to speak with my agent to know if I’ll be free—”

“Yah! Seokmin, hyung,” Mingyu gasps, pointing up into the once dark sky. “Look!”

A streak of light flies across the star filled sky. Mingyu blinks. He’s _never_ seen so many stars in Seoul. There are thousands of stars spotting the black sky and they all seemed so close. Like the glittering fireworks, Mingyu feels like he could reach out and touch them. He tries—he reaches out and his fingers skims something burning hot.

Startled, Mingyu pulls his hand back but slowly reaches out again. He can _touch the stars_.

“Hey, look—” Mingyu turns to share his finding, but he’s alone. He’s no longer on a hill. He is standing among the stars, the darkness beneath his feet is endless.

 _I found you_.

Mingyu looks around frantically, but all he can see are stars. Suddenly the entire sky goes dark, all the stars vanish except for four burning bright points underneath his feet.

_The first of the constellations—the first—the Ram—Mingyu—wake up—wake!_

“Wake up, Mingyu! Oh my god, is he dead?”

“He’s still breathing!”

Mingyu opens his eyes slowly and the dark skies greeted him—the typical muted skies of Seoul. Nothing like the stars he had seen earlier. Slowly, Mingyu sits up with his gaze still upwards. So many questions and the barely visible stars gave him no answers.

“Oh, he’s alive!” Seokmin exclaims, throwing his arms around his friend in a tight hug. “I was going to call an ambulance!”

“Wha-what happened?” Mingyu asks.

“You pointed at a shooting star and then just collapsed,” Soonyoung answers, kneeling down and placing a gentle hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Got too excited there, huh?”

“I guess,” Mingyu mumbles. He looks down at his feet, and for a moment, he could almost see the four stars burning beneath them. Mingyu shakes his head to clear the image—he was just tired and out of breath and hungry. That’s it. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh my _goodness_ , we forgot to eat,” Seokmin gasps. He grabs Soonyoung’s hand. “The festival stalls are going to close soon. We should go eat. Mingyu probably passed out due to hunger.”

“Are you really okay?” Soonyoung asks quietly. “We can just take you home.”

“I’m fine hyung,” Mingyu says in the most reassuring tone he can manage. “It’s probably the hunger.”

“Alright, then—what are we waiting for?” Soonyoung perks up. “Festival food at night is the best!”

The three stumble back to the brightly lit streets, and Mingyu forgets about the stars beneath his feet.

Unknown to Mingyu, it hadn’t been a shooting star. The stars are slowly re-aligning and Kim Mingyu’s destiny is about to start. Not that he knows this.

\---

It’s October when his destiny came crashing down on him.

By all standards, Mingyu is a normal high school student who goes to class and hangs out with his friends. He doesn’t normally get into too much trouble—especially with authorities.

But here he is on a Tuesday night, trying to run away from a security officer.

“Give it to me!” the man yells, chasing him with speed of a well beyond middle-aged man. Mingyu is one of the fastest runners in his entire grade, but this pot-bellied security guard is catching up to him effortlessly. “I know you have it! Give it to me!”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mingyu yells, breathing heavily in exertion. He doesn’t dare look back or slow down. Literally, Mingyu walked past this man and the man suddenly started chasing after him and making demands. “I don’t even know you!”

“You have it!”

“I don’t!” Mingyu screams into the night.

The side street is poorly maintained with potholes and a broken street lamp. In his haste and from the hazy darkness, Mingyu trips on the uneven pavement and lands on the rough concrete. Hissing as small rocks dig into his palm and forearm, Mingyu tries to get back on his feet but a sharp pain in his ankle tells him it’s futile.

“You have it,” the security guard growls. Rolling over so he’s facing the other, Mingyu finally gets a good look at his pursuer. Oh, what the fuck, the man’s eyes are glowing red like one of those demon possessed anime characters. “You definitely have the Ram.”

“The what?” Mingyu echoes. A sky filled with stars flashes before his eyes. Mingyu blinks and it’s gone.

“You must have it,” the man howls, sounding less and less human with each labored breath. The man holds up a hand. It crackles and pops, changing into something that looked much more like a claw. “The Ram! You have it! And if you won’t give it to me”—the man poses to strike with his monster hand—“then I’ll take it from your _dead body_!”

Mingyu puts his arms out in a feeble attempt to shield himself. He sees the claw come at him in slow motion and pieces of his life flash before him—his parents telling him he was going to be an older brother, the four burning points, his friends celebrating being in the same class again, the starry sky, Seokmin waving goodbye and Mingyu waving back not knowing that might be the last time—Mingyu screws his eyes shut, is he really going to die at sixteen like this?

“Aack!”

Mingyu looks up and sees the man clutching his claw hand in pain.

“You—!” the security guard yells, staring down at Mingyu’s feet.

Mingyu follows the line of sight and notices the blue diamond first. It was some sort of creature with a white body, a pink cap and some sort of blue jewel embedded in its head.

“Aries! Call forth your power!” the creature says, turning to look at Mingyu with the most sparkly eyes ever.

“Aries?” Mingyu echoes dumbly. A bright light shines below him and Mingyu is startled to see a circle of light surround him. Looking around, Mingyu recognizes the pattern inside the circle—four stars’ positioned into a bent line. A surge of power burns through him, and Mingyu gasps as the energy builds in his chest.

“Release the power of Aries, First of the Zodiac Guardians!” the little creature says determinedly. It jumps backwards and Mingyu catches the creature quickly with both hands. “Mingyu, repeat after me—!”

Mingyu stares dumbly at the little creature. He was not going to say that. That was the _stupidest_ —the possessed man roars.

“I will _kill you_!” the man screams and rushes forward for another attack.

“ _Yeah, I check in! Seoul City!_ ”

Mingyu has seen transformation sequences in animes, but to experience one for himself is—well—uh, indescribable.

The seal with the stars spins beneath him, casting a golden light on his skin. In fact, his whole body is bright gold, which thankfully, hides his bare skin. His normal clothes turn into strips of light, pulling away and surround his body in red ribbons.

Feeling his body lift into an upright position on its own, Mingyu prays that there’s no leotard involved.

The outfit is normal, if not flashy. The base is a white button up with a royal blue suit jacket with matching shorts, that thankfully, go down to his knees.

He twirls once. Holding out his arms, Mingyu watches with fascination as stars spin into golden strings, threading into his sleeves.

He twirls a second time. Mingyu puffs out his chest, and the golden strings twirl into beautiful patterns on his jacket lapels.

He twirls a third time. His bare feet are surrounded by bright gold light and it explodes into little stars, revealing the dark combat boots below.

“Okay this is getting ridiculous—” Mingyu starts to say, but he’s twirling once more.

At least, this seems to be the last spinning movement as he lands on his feet in an awkward pose—heels clicked together, one hand in his pocket, and the other hand behind his head.

“ _Guardian Aries_ , and in the name of Aries the Ram,” Mingyu declares. His mouth and body move on their own. Mingyu brings the hand behind his head to the front and caresses his jawline with the back of his hand. “You’ll go down faster than a gyro drop.”

Mingyu cringes—that must be the _stupidest thing he’s ever said_ and that’s saying something. He looks down at the floor in embarrassment and tries to pretend that all of this is just a bad dream—

“Guardian Aries! Watch out!”

Startled, Mingyu barely moves out of the way before the possessed man can tackle him. Rolling out onto the uneven pavement, Mingyu groans but regains his footing. Oh hey, his ankle isn’t bothering him anymore. Turning away, Mingyu sprints down the side street away from danger, and just when he thinks he’s put some distance between him and the possessed man, Mingyu stumbles as a claw flies out of nowhere, embedding itself into the cement ground next to Mingyu’s foot.

Oh great, those inhuman claws extend. He can’t risk one of those things getting him in the back. Mingyu turns around to face the possessed man.

“Aries, you have to help this man!” the little creature yells, floating next to him. “We can’t allow him to be possessed!”

“Well, do you have any bright ideas?” Mingyu asks in annoyance. “What is even wrong with the guy?”

“Dark matter has possessed him and is controlling him through his shadows!” the little creature says, pointing at the ground. The shadows swirl together in thick strands, and Mingyu can almost make out a face, grinning with malicious intent. “In order to defeat the dark matter, you have to get close enough to step on the man’s shadow!”

“And _then_ what?!” Mingyu asks hysterically. He watches the rotating claws in fear—so first, he has to get through _those_ but then how does he defeat—what was it called— _dark matter_? “Just stomp on it until the dark matter releases him?”

“You will know what to do when you get there!” the little creature says. It stares into Mingyu’s eyes with twinkling trust, and the little blue diamond at the top sparkles in reassurance. “Guardian Aries, you will know what to do.”

Mingyu swallows thickly and turns back to his—fucking impossible—task. His eyes follow the erratic movements of the mutating claws, and Mingyu tries to build a game plan. But first, Mingyu jumps away from an incoming claw and tries not to give up when he watches it break a light pole in half.

 _No, focus,_ _dammit_ , Mingyu thinks, breathing in deeply and exhaling. He glares at the chuckling possessed man and observes. There are eight claw in total with four from each of the man’s hands. Mingyu watches closely and frowns. There seems to be a little pattern in how they extended and retracted— _one-three, two-four_ , Mingyu counts.

Side stepping two attacking claws, Mingyu smiles. One-three, two-four. They attack in an alternating fashion—the first and third claw from the outside extend and then the second and fourth do. But that isn’t the most important thing. Claws one-three extend farther than that of two-four.

Check _in_.

One-three, Mingyu dodges and waits. The claws slowly retract and claws two-four expand out, speeding at Mingyu with harmful intent. With his quick reflexes, Mingyu avoids them and sidles up against the wall, waiting.  

Rather than anticipating, the possessed man seems to just attack wherever he sees Mingyu at the moment. While it’s a little intimidating, Mingyu realizes that waiting and then moving out of the way once he detects any claw movement is the best way to go. Is he relying on his split-second decision making a lot? Yes, but somehow, in this ridiculous get up, he feels faster and more sensitive to movement. He thinks he can actually depend on his senses to make the next decision.

One-three, Mingyu avoids them with a huge step forward—and he _charges._ With two-four still retracting and one-three embedded in the wall behind him, Mingyu takes advantage of the gaping defense, running towards his target. The possessed man screeches angrily but is unable to do anything as Mingyu slides up to him.

Once again, Mingyu feels his body moving on its own via a mysterious force. He places his hand on the possessed man’s chest and watches in fascination as a bright golden ring expands from his palms. The ring grows larger and larger until it outgrows the other man’s body and creates golden circle around the two of them. The shadows beneath their feet swirl furiously like they are trying to get away, but no matter how desperately they try, they cannot get past the golden barrier.

The mysterious force suddenly releases, and whatever is on the tip of Mingyu’s tongue disappears with it. Mingyu looks around helplessly. What to do next?

“Guardian Aries! Repeat after me!” the little creature yells, coming to the rescue, and Mingyu happily obliges.

“I got you like _boom boom!_ ”

The entire side street explodes in gold stars.

 

\---------

 

**Episode 9 - The Pretty Boy Is a Trickster: He Who Tips the Scales**

[ L O C K E D ]

 

\---------

 

**Episode 10 - Enter Scorpio: the First of the Water Signs**

The late autumn night is cold, and Mingyu is _not_ wearing enough. After having a month of these sudden late night runs, one would think Mingyu would remember to bring a jacket.

Nope, he forgets ever time.

He’s still in his house clothes, a thin t-shirt and basketball shorts, but at least he remembers to change into his running shoes this time. Jeonghan still laughs at him about the fluffy puppy slippers— _they’re my sister’s_ , Mingyu defends and Jeonghan merely smirks with a mock understanding nod.

Sprinting down the neighborhood street, Mingyu sneezes loudly into his hand.

“ _Mingyu_ ,” Bongbong chides, flying next to him with surprising speed for a tiny thing. They settle on top of Mingyu’s hair and look down disapprovingly. “Sneeze into the crook of your arm or something. That’s not very hygienic.”

“Well, maybe if the dark matter didn’t come out at _midnight_ all the time—” Mingyu argues, but he’s cut off when Bongbong slides off his forehead. The guardian slows down to a stop. “ _Bongie_!”

“There! In the park!” Bongbong points with a small white limb. Mingyu looks ahead and frowns. The familiar community park is shrouded in a strange misty darkness, and even the streetlights fail to illuminate the pathway.  “I feel it’s presence here!”

And from the park entrance, a shadowy figure slowly steps out of the dark mist.

Grabbing Bongbong and shoves them up his shirt, Mingyu takes a hesitant step back. The dark matter possessed usually do not stroll so leisurely, but it’s also weird for a human to be walking around normally in a not very normal atmosphere.

Is this a new way for the dark matter to attack? They do seem to get smarter with each encounter. The first couple of times, they just possessed people and outright attacked Mingyu, but now, they seem to like using decoys and hostages.

Thankfully, Mingyu now has a partner. No matter how reluctant the Guardian Libra is—

“Oh Mingyu, you’re here,” Jeonghan smiles, striding out of the dark mist.

“ _Hyung!_ ” Mingyu whines, relaxing immediately. “Why are you here?”

“I called him,” Bongbong answers, peeking out of the shirt collar. Mingyu looks down at the bright pink top of their head and the blue diamond flickers happily. “I’m glad you made it Guardian Libra!”

“You woke him up?” Mingyu whispers harshly at Bongbong. If there is anything Mingyu found out in their little night time adventures, Jeonghan hates being woken up, and he moves at the speed of molasses—either because he’s half asleep or it’s purely out of spite.

“I was up,” Jeonghan shrugs. Mingyu stares at his upperclassman in worry. The older boy is never up at midnight, choosing to go to bed as early as possible. Jeonghan is stilled in his school uniform at midnight, and from the backpack slung over one shoulder, he hasn’t gone home yet. Jeonghan follows Mingyu’s line of sight and chuckles. “Cram school is a thing.”

“You don’t go to cram school—” Mingyu frowns.

“ _Aaah! Help!_ ”

The two guardians look toward the dark park in sudden alertness.

“It sounded like a child,” Jeonghan says quietly. His eyes are narrowed and his lips press into a thin line. “Like a young girl.”

Mingyu thinks of his younger sister when she was young, and a rush of anger colors his cheeks. How _dare_ they use a child—!

“ _Please help!_ ”

“There’s no doubt. It’s coming from the park,” Bongbong declares. They look right and left at the two guardians. “Time to transform, Guardian Aries! Guardian Libra!”

Both Mingyu and Jeonghan nod in agreement.

“ _Yeah, I check in! Seoul City!_ ”

“ _By habit, I call your name!_ ”

Mingyu throws his arms out and embraces the golden light as it swirls around him. He allows the star force to twirl him around, and Mingyu finally finishes in his pose.

“ _Guardian Aries_ , and in the name of Aries the Ram,” Mingyu declares, caressing his jawline with the back of his hand. “You’ll go down faster than a gyro drop!”

“ _Guardian Libra_ , and in the name of the scale of Justice,” Jeonghan says, looking over his shoulder. The breeze rustles through his hair and the elder winks towards the front. He pivots on one foot and brings a hand up to brush back his bangs. “You’ll disappear with the night as I am the morning light.”

Without any hesitation, the two guardians jump into the black mist and look around to find the source of the distressed cries.

“Look there!” Bongbong yells, pointing ahead.

There are two possessed cornering a little girl who looks no older than seven. Mingyu frowns, and out of his peripheral vision, he sees Jeonghan tense next to him.

“You damn bullies!” Mingyu declares. The possessed turn towards them with bright red eyes. “Pick on people your own size!”

“It’s Aries and Libra, it’s Aries and Libra, it’s—” the possessed chant. They smile with an inhuman stretch of the lips. Without warning, both scream with mouths wide open, and more black mist spreads rapidly, blinding the guardians.

Mingyu tries to wave away the mist but there’s too much. Grabbing Bongbong and shoving the poor creature into his jacket, Mingyu runs toward the side. He manages to get away from the thick mist, but the possessed are gone—so is the little girl.

“Jeonghan-hyung!” Mingyu yells, and he thinks he sees a tuft of hair above the spray of mist. Before he’s able to move towards Jeonghan, the thick mist slowly solidifies into a large wall. Mingyu pounds on the wall with his fist but it’s solid and sturdy. “Eh? What’s—Jeonghan-hyung! Hyung!”

“He’s fine!” Bongbong says. The little diamond is flashing red. “Guardian Libra is fully capable of protecting himself, but the little girl—!”

“I got it,” Mingyu agrees. “Do you know where they went?”

“Of course!” Bongbong says, looking up with an exasperated twinkle. The creature points into the trees. It once was a spacious lawn, but now, dark and twisted trees fill the area. “In there!”

“Al-alright,” Mingyu stutters. He’s not very fond of the dark, but for the little girl! “Into the woods we go!”

Bongbong crawls out of his jacket and floats a little next to him. Carefully, Mingyu steps into the forest area. He’s mindful of the tall roots and low hanging branches. It’s an obstacle course for the tall guardian, but he keeps his eye on Bongbong’s flashing diamond and his feet.

He only trips twice before he reaches another clearing. The little girl is curled up on the small clearing, crying and hiccupping. In a rush of protectiveness, Mingyu runs towards her.

“Wait—Mingyu!” Bongbong calls, but Mingyu pays the creature no heed. He sees the possessed to his left, and he prepares the golden ring in his palm. “ _No, Mingyu, it’s a trap!_ ”

He barely hears Bongbong’s exclamation before being knocked off his feet. Little girl looks up with bright red eyes and a cruel smile. She punches him quite firmly in his stomach, and the force flings Mingyu back into the trees. He groans loudly as his back cracks against the knobby trees.

“Mingyu, are you alright?” Bongbong asks frantically, floating down and poking his shoulder. Mingyu rolls forward and wobbles to his feet. _That_ hurt.

“Aries, Aries,” the possessed little girl chants. “We fooled Aries!”

Mingyu straightens his posture and falls to his knees, hissing. Everything hurts—his stomach, his ribs, his back, his arms, his knees—and he tries to blink away the black spots in his vision. Mingyu hasn’t been directly hit like this, and he’s not too sure how to get back up. Blinking away the tears, Mingyu whines as the tears blurs his vision.

Great, he can barely move and now he can’t see.

“We’ll take the Ram and then the Scales and—” the two possessed chant in unison.

“Two against one isn’t too fair, now is it?”

Mingyu rubs the tears away, and someone walks past him in an athletic uniform. He doesn’t recognize the school colors—blue and white running jacket with matching sweatpants. In fact, he doesn’t even recognize the characters on the back other than _school_.

“But since, that’s what you seem to want,” the mysterious person laughs. Mingyu thinks it’s a boy with a slightly higher tone of voice and maybe a foreigner? There’s an accent, but Mingyu can’t seem to place it. “I’ll play two against one with you.”

“Wait—” Mingyu croaks. He reaches out and tugs on the other’s sleeve. He’s a guardian so it’s his mission to fight with these possessed people, but a total civilian—another _student_ —shouldn’t need to deal with otherworldly issues.

The mystery person turns with an exasperated smile. Mingyu stares up dumbly at the handsome stranger. The stranger’s face is thin but there’s something soft about his features or maybe it’s just his smile. The boy takes off his jacket and throws it over Mingyu’s head.

“Alright, I’ll tag in,” the mystery person says. Mingyu pulls the jacket off his head in annoyance with a list of complaints, but they die on his tongue. The mystery boy brandishes a nunchuck in his outstretched right hand. Mingyu opens his mouth and closes it— _so cool_. “I usually don’t stick my nose in other people’s business, but that was a cowardly hit.”

“Another? Aries and another?” the two possessed whisper together with narrowed red eyes. “Another?”

“I don’t go soft on cowards,” the mystery person declares and lunges.

Staring wide eyed, Mingyu thanks the stars this stranger is the one who came to help. He’s not an expert, but Mingyu can see when someone’s a good fighter. This stranger is a _beautiful_ fighter. The nunchucks seem to only be an extension of his arm, and they fly so effortlessly in intricate patterns. It’s almost too easy to point out the victor—the possessed shriek in anger.

Mingyu usually goes on autopilot when he fights. He’s never learned how to fight, and any offense he uses is almost like muscle memory. Bongbong says its memories of a past life when he used to be the most powerful guardian of the zodiacs— _that’s why you are the First House_ , Bongbong explained. Even so, Mingyu’s fighting is a weak imitation of what this beautiful stranger is doing.

“Mingyu, what day is today?” Bongbong asks suddenly. Mingyu turns to the floating creature, and he sees the blue diamond turn deep red. It’s just like when they found Jeonghan— _oh_ , Mingyu gasps.

Mingyu faces forward at the mysterious fighter. Could he be—?

“It’s only October 22nd,” Bongbong mutters. “That doesn’t make sense! It’s still Libra season.”

“Bongie, it’s past midnight,” Mingyu yells. He turns to the little creature with wide eyes. “It’s October 23rd! Scorpio! It’s officially Scorpio season!”

“Scorpio,” Bongbong whispers, and something sparkles in the creature’s eyes. “It’s Scorpio!”

“Hey, you! Scorpio! Yeah you!” Mingyu yells. The mysterious stranger glances at him in confusion. “They’re just possessed people! We have to get the dark matter—uh, the thing that’s possessing them—out of them! And you have to call on your zodiac power to do it!”

“What the fu—?” the stranger begins, squinting at Mingyu with disbelieving eyes. The momentary distraction is enough for the possessed to strike out, and the stranger flips backwards to avoid their claws. Mingyu gasps—an angry red line appears on the stranger’s cheek. The stranger touches the shallow cut and winces. “So they’re possessed.”

“Yeah, they will only get stronger,” Mingyu stammers. Oh man, he feels so sorry for distracting the poor guy—his pretty _face_. “We need to take out the dark matter.”

“How do we do that?” the stranger asks dryly.

“Xu Minghao!” Bongbong calls, and the stranger turns to the floating creature with furrowed brows.

“How do you know my name?” the stranger asks.

“It’s because you are the Guardian Scorpio of the Eight House!” Bongbong declares. The diamond on their head is burning a brilliant red. “Repeat after me and receive your star power!”

“Wait, what _are_ —?” Minghao asks, but he doesn’t get to finish his question. A bright gold circle spreads to encircle the other, and the constellation of Scorpius sparkles beneath his feet. Minghao looks up in tight lipped confusion, and Mingyu thinks he sees a little fear in those bright eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” Mingyu says as reassuringly as possible. “It doesn’t hurt—although, it will feel a little ridiculous.”

“Can I trust you?” Minghao asks, staring at him with troubled eyes.

Mingyu blinks and white spots litter his vision. And it’s happening again. Mingyu think he sees a fuzzy picture—a similar looking boy, maybe a little older, with silver hair, but the shape of their eyes are the same. The way their lip quivers just a bit in worry is the same. Everything is the same—

“ _Forever and always_ ,” Mingyu answers, and he frowns at how quickly those words came out.

“ _Always and forever_ ,” Minghao answers, and the overlapping image happens once more. This time it’s clearer, and Mingyu can make out startling purple eyes and silver hair and the night sky spread out behind him with Scorpius—

“ _I’ll fly, wherever I can hear your voice!_ ”

Mingyu stares wide-eyed at the sudden wave of water that swallows the other, and it raises up like a waterspout. There’s something enchanting in the swirling water, and it thins out into ribbons. With his eyes closed, Minghao is turning inside the water ribbons with golden threads decorating his teal jacket.

The water finally falls, and Minghao steps out in his gold-embroidered jacket with a final sweep of his arms, shaking off the trailing stars. He jumps backward in an aerial flip and lands with the water parting in a final splash.

“ _Guardian Scorpio_ , and in the name of Scorpio the Giant,” Minghao declares, tilting his head up with half-lidded eyes. He runs one hand through his hair and extends his other hand out, pointing forward. “Regardless of whether it’s day or night, I’ll be here to finish you.”

Mingyu swallows. Oh hi, it’s getting a little heated in this suit jacket.

“Guardian Scorpio!” Bongbong calls. The little diamond is back to its usual blue color. “Repeat after me! We will take out the dark matter!”

“I got you like _boom boom_!”

The small clearing explodes in gold stars.

 

\---------

 

**Episode 25 – Jupiter, the Powerful Guardian of Sagittarius**

[ L O C K E D ]

 

\---------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this sailor moon inspired? yes, yes, yesyesyes. And they're guardian outfits are inspired by the Diamond Edge multicolored suits XD 
> 
> I've been meaning to write this for ages LOL sorry, I didn't finish Jeonghan's mini chapter in time (and technically, hao's chapter isn't done 'cause jeonghan pops back in at the end like 'oh, we found another one!' and some other stuff) I'm not the best at action scenes and I'll definitely polish this up for the actual fic -- omfg what have i done, through this 31days i've burdened myself with so many future projects HAHAHAH*gets bricked
> 
> We're getting to the last couple of days guys .-. tomorrow is going to be a hell of an update (i'm stressed about it already LOOOOL) but hopefully, we'll all enjoy it ;;A;;
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope everyone enjoys~ (to a certain extent LOL)
> 
> EDIT: ONCE AGAIN THANKS JESS <3 ;;A;;


	31. A Right of Succession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Game of Thrones AU] Xu Minghao of House Targaryen will reclaim his rightful throne.

**A Right of Succession**

\---

Xu Minghao of House Targaryen grew up during a peaceful and prosperous era of Westeros.

During his youth, his uncle sat upon the Iron Throne with all the power and grace expected of a king. Even today, there are very few people who would debate Wen Junyi’s rule as King of the Andals and the First Men.

Minghao grew up in the fortress of Dragonstone. He was not the Prince of Dragonstone by any lapse of the imagination, but it was well known that his mother wished him to be.

His mother, Wen Mingrong, was the eldest daughter of the Former King Wen Suyin. Stories from her youth, painted his mother as a cruel warrior, who only gave up her sword when her husband begged her— _you’re pregnant with our child_.

And sometimes Minghao sees it, the bloodthirst in her eyes and the chilling smile as her hand curls around a sword handle.

(And sometimes Minghao feels it in his own blood. They say he takes after his mother, and they meant it beyond his lithe body and long face.)

“I don’t think her heart ever truly returned from the battlefield,” his father joked. For a large man who was born to the dark northern winters, Xu Linghao of House Karstark, was a jolly fellow who loved his children very much. The only things Minghao inherited from his father were his dark hair, round nose and large hands. “Although, if her father had bestowed her the throne, it may have returned.”

It’s infamous—the war his mother almost sparked. While it never happened, the smallfolk refer to the time as _The Battle of Broken Promises._ She’s been bitter that her father gave the throne to her younger brother, skipping over her even though she was the eldest. And if Mingrong had not been pregnant at the time, Linghao boasted that she would have stormed King’s Landing. Minghao’s father found humor in it when most didn’t.

His uncle had been well aware of this fact, and whatever his sister asked for—as long as it were within reason—the King agreed to.

It had been a minor request for Minghao to grow up at Dragonstone, and so he does.

Minghao grows up watching soldiers train and listening to generals’ plan. The Chamber of the Painted Table was his childhood playground, and before he could even write, Minghao already knew Westeros like the back of his hand. He’s there even before the true heir, and the whispers in the walls jokingly called him the Backup Prince of Dragonstone.

Minghao meets Wen Junhui at a young age, and the fourteen-year-old immediately finds his older cousin lacking.

Wen Junhui is the first son of the King Junyi and the Queen Kwon Soohyun of House Martell. Standing there silently, Junhui looks impressive with his bright blonde hair, deep eyes and high nose, but unlike his strong physique, his cousin is passive and meek. Despite Junhui is a Targaryen and Martell in blood, he is not in spirit. Junhui is far from their family motto— _fire and blood_ —and to be fair, he’s not quite like his mother’s family motto either— _unbowed, unbent, unbroken._

In Minghao’s most pleasant opinion, Junhui is not fit for the throne, and he makes it very clear from day one.

“Then take it from me,” the nineteen-year-old heir smiles and ruffles Minghao’s hair much to the young Targaryen’s confusion. “It’s not like the King is going to die any time soon.”

“Oh dear, are you tempting your own younger cousin to usurp the throne from you?” another young man asks incredulously. He strides into the room with the arrogant confidence of a skilled warrior—poised and ready to strike. If Minghao didn’t know this was Kwon Soonyoung, he would have thought the young man was a Targaryen bastard with his ashy blonde hair and piercing eyes. “Wen Junhui of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, don’t you think there are better ways to win over the opposition?”

“There’s nothing to win over with family,” Junhui shrugs, and Soonyoung scrunches his face in disbelief.

“Are we living in the same great land of Westeros or are you in your own private dream land?” Soonyoung asks.

Mingho watches the banter carefully.

He’s heard many a story about Kwon Soonyoung—the first-born son of Kwon Soohyo of House Martell. Soohyo is the Queen’s sister, and they both gave birth to their sons around the same time. The joke—well, some in the Court truly believe this—goes that their children had been switched, and Kwon Soonyoung is the true heir. His passion knows no bounds, searching for perfection in the art of war. His persistence in exploration is also famous, and his obsession with Valyria merely increases people’s suspicion of his true heritage. Soonyoung is the only known explorer to have entered the Smoking Sea and returned from them. The stories that accompany the journey are magical and unbelievable.  

(“That Kwon Soonyoung is more of a Targaryen than my nephew will ever be,” his mother said dryly. “My brother knows it. My sister-in-law knows it. Yet the poor kid will end up as the King’s Hand. How fair is the world?”)

He’s not too sure how much of those stories are true, but Minghao knows for a fact that Soonyoung adores his bastard brother, Chan, like no other. They say Soonyoung only returned from Essos for his brother, and Chan is the only bastard child who’s acknowledged in King’s Landing because of this.

“Now Xu Minghao is going to be the next Prince of Dragonstone, and this is all of your own doing,” Soonyoung warns, and Junhui laughs. “Moon Junhui don’t _laugh_! You think all of this is funny, and one day, you’re going to die because of that!”

“You wouldn’t let me die,” Junhui says simply. Soonyoung opens his mouth to disagree, but he closes it in an exaggerated grimace.

“You are so lucky you have me,” Soonyoung snaps without any malice.

“I am,” Junhui agrees, and Minghao frowns.

While his older cousin is not a typical Targaryen, Minghao realizes that Junhui’s power doesn’t come from iron and fists. It’s something softer and wiser. There’s an indescribable way Junhui holds himself when he speaks to people—like he’s thankful for their help and truly wishes to rule together for the betterment of all.

He’s never seen anyone get a Lannister to willingly part with their gold and ask for nothing in return, but Junhui does somehow. And the fact Junhui remains fast friends with Lee Jihoon of House Lannister is an amazing feat on its own.

(Begrudgingly, Minghao acknowledges his cousin’s strength. It did help that Wen Junhui is actually very skilled with the sword and bow. Minghao has yet to defeat his cousin, and they’ve been sparring for five years now.

Although, his true admiration is for Soonyoung. Minghao doesn’t think anyone could kill Soonyoung without some very backhanded method. Chan agrees proudly.)

It takes a couple of years, but Minghao finds himself intrigued with the new partnerships his cousin is trying to achieve. Maybe the age of wars and deceptions are over, and maybe Minghao needs to embrace this new age of diplomacy. As much as his blood boils for battle, Minghao quells it with exploration.

He picks up Soonyoung’s trail, traveling and mapping the Smoking Sea. And it’s there he finds Junhui’s coronation present. As much as Minghao finds Junhui lacking, he does harbor fond—or maybe they’re more protective?—feelings for his cousin, and maybe these three beautiful dragon eggs will make Junhui at least _look_ like a Targaryen.

Returning to Dragonstone, twenty-year-old Minghao catches the fortress at the biannual worship. Slipping away unseen, he easily hides the dragon eggs in his quarters and walks down to join the rest on the windy shores.

Junhui’s mother sent the visiting priest to lead the biannual worship. They didn’t have a seven-walled room in the Dragonstone, but the septon came with a seven-sided tent— _with love from Her Majesty the Queen_. In this tent, the priest set up a circle of seven small statues, crystals and incense. Minghao doesn’t really believe in the Faith of Seven as he probably should, but he lights a candle in honor of the Warrior regardless.

“Prince Junhui is rather formidable,” Septon Joshua says with quirk of his lips. The tent flaps a little precariously in the wind, but it holds. “He gives offerings not to the Warrior nor the Father but rather to the Crone. Strange for the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“You mean foolish,” Minghao sighs. He gets up from his kneeled position and regards the priest with exasperation. “What will happen if someone plots against him? Or worse, Westeros goes to war?”

“I am a priest, nothing more and nothing less,” Joshua smiles. “I don’t give opinions in matters of politics or money, god bless.”

“You’re from House _Tyrell_ ,” Minghao says incredulously. “That’s all you people ever deal with.”

“Ah, I don’t speak of the past before I was godsworn,” the priest tuts. “I do not trouble myself with their ambitions.”—Joshua looks up at the hanging seven stars behind the statue of the Father with faraway eyes—“It’s for the best.”

“I heard they banished someone,” Minghao says, and the priest sighs. “House Tyrell kicked out one of their own.”

“Kim Mingyu, he—ah—he’s a good kid,” Joshua says softly. “His heart is in the right place.”

“Good kids with good hearts make failed Tyrells, no?” Minghao asks, and this elicits a chuckle from the septon.

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Joshua says with an amused shake of his head. “No wonder you’re not called to Court any day.”

“It’s not my fault the Baratheons couldn’t take the truth at face value,” Minghao shrugs. He’s not known for his tact, and the most infuriating part is that he’s always right. “I refuse to lie for someone else’s comfort. They can honey each other up on their own without me.”

“And they do,” Joshua agrees. He holds out the incense and taps a little of the ash over each crystal. “And may the Father judge us with mercy for straying as humanity is weak. May the Mother bless this land and the King of Westeros. May the Maiden keep our young Princesses safe from harm. May the Warrior give us courage to face any upcoming strife. May the Smith give us courage to do what is right. And may the Crone lead us with wisdom through the succession.”

“And may the Stranger stay away from King’s Landing and the King be healthy,” Minghao prays dryly. He’s only half serious—partially because he doesn’t believe in the Faith and partially because the King’s death is inevitable. The last time he saw his uncle, the King was merely a shadow of who he once was.

King Wen Junyi doesn’t make it through the winter.

\---

“Minghao, are you sure—?”

“Cousin, I will not attend your coronation,” Minghao laughs, waving away the other’s concern. Junhui frowns, and Minghao can hear the questions forming in the other’s mind. “And no, I am not planning to march an army into King’s Landing.”

“I’m not my father and I cannot pretend I am ready for the throne,” Junhui says slowly. The candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows across the dark stone walls, but the shadows on Junhui’s face are darker—haggard from his father’s death and his mother’s sorrow. The Chamber of the Painted Table is dimly lit, but neither Targaryen needs light to know the edges and curves of the table. “But I do know that there is a faction who wishes me dead and for _you_ to be the next King.”

“I know that as well,” Minghao admits, tracing the shores of the Summer Sea.

“But are _you_ also a part of that faction?” Junhui asks candidly, and Minghao snorts. This is why Minghao’s amazed Junhui hasn’t died yet.

“No,” Minghao answers, watching with amusement as the other smiles. “But you know I could be lying.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me,” Junhui says with a certainty Minghao’s not sure he should have.

“Be wary, oh Prince of Dragonstone,” Minghao warns. “Just because I don’t want the throne today, doesn’t mean I won’t desire it tomorrow.”

“Then take it from me,” Junhui says with a smile. Minghao sighs but doesn’t move away when Junhui leans over the table to ruffle his hair. “You will desire the throne one day, and may you be ready for it unlike me.”

Minghao rolls his eyes at the dramatics and decides his cousin could live as king without those dragon eggs. He’ll give them to Junhui next time he returns to Westeros.  

Sweeping out of the great hall, Minghao sees Soonyoung leaning against the outside of the door.

“May the Warrior be with you,” Soonyoung offers.

“You make is sound like I’m going to war,” Minghao says with a grimace. “Essos is not as dangerous as it once was.”

“Don’t be a damn brat and just take my blessings,” Soonyoung says with a mock scowl. The corners of his lips quiver, and he smiles sadly. “It helps me feel at ease. Come back safely, Xu Minghao of House Targaryen.”

“When have I not?” Minghao asks with a smirk.

Minghao doesn’t expect that to be the last time he ever sees Junhui or Soonyoung alive.

\---

Six years past like a blink of the eye, and Minghao barely sets foot in Westeros anymore. He’ll occasionally visit Chan in Dornes or rest his weary eyes in the Free Cities, but that is as close to King’s Landing as he has been.

He spent two grueling years mapping out one tiny little island beyond the Smoking Seas, and Minghao returns to the Free City, feeling like a king in his own right.

He strolls into a sea side pub with his hood pulled over his head and orders a quick lunch. Staring out at the clear sea, Minghao decides it’s time to return home and visit his cousin. Those dragon eggs have been sitting in his untouched quarters for six years now, and Minghao figures six years was enough to toughen his cousin up to count as _half_ a Targaryen at least.

All was well in Westeros—

“He did seem too behaved for a Targaryen,” someone whispers, and Minghao instinctively tunes into the conversation. “Hidden madness that one.”

Glancing at the table next to him, Minghao recognizes the merchants. They specialized in bringing spices and goods to King’s Landing, and while Minghao despises their cowering ways, he recognizes their contributions.

“How does the saying go?” another one asks.

“Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air,” another whispers. “And the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

“King Wen Junhui didn’t seem like the type though,” someone sighs. “He was…different but not _mad_.”

“He deteriorated in the past year, no?”

There’s some scuffle about exactly when the king became paranoid, isolating himself from everyone except the King’s Hand. The two on the right argue that the king grew suspicious once his fiancée of the House Baratheon was poisoned to death. The two on the left argue the king’s madness emerged after he had dream about someone taking his throne. The last one declares—

“He was mad to begin with!” the merchant argues. “They say he murdered his cousin six years ago! Xu Minghao of House Targaryen was the favorite successor to the throne, and in fear of being overstepped, he murdered him! He then claimed that his cousin went abroad to Essos to cover it up!”

“No—!” one of the other merchant’s gasp loudly. Some heads turn. “They say Xu Minghao is alive! He’s been mapping the Smoking Seas!”

“Have you ever seen him though?” the merchant asks, shushing the other with a finger to his lips. Their voices lower to a hum, but Minghao hears them just fine. “And who in the world would actually go towards the Smoking Seas anyways? It’s all just a large cover up!”

A younger and more hot-headed Minghao would have jumped up and felt the need to reveal the truth. But at the age of twenty-six, Minghao just chews his hard tack slowly and listens.

Apparently not all is well in Westeros.

“No wonder I couldn’t find you for years. I didn’t think you’d actually be at the Smoking Seas.”

Minghao looks up from his food, and someone sits down across from him. The stranger is handsome with charming eyes and a rugged smile. Minghao immediately looks for an identifying emblem—no wolves, no fish, no stag— _ah_ , Minghao spots a gold flower on the chain peeking out of the other’s shirt collar.

“What does a Tyrell want with me?” Minghao asks. The man looks down at his outfit in confusion, and Minghao smirks, pointing to the chain. “It’s best to take _off_ your family crest if you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Oh dammit, I forgot this—” he mutters, shoving the chain down his shirt. “Technically, I’m not a Tyrell.”

“Kim Mingyu?” Minghao asks with a raised eyebrow.

“How did you know—?”

“I didn’t,” Minghao shrugs. It’s a lucky guess, but he can’t imagine people from House Tyrell actually looking for him. The last conversation he had with Lord Jeonghan didn’t end as well as either family wanted it to, although, his mother had been mighty proud of him. “But now I do.”

“I—ugh— Seokmin said you’d be a character,” Mingyu sighs, ruffling his hair in annoyance.

“You never answered me,” Minghao says, putting his remaining food on the wooden table. “What does Kim Mingyu want with me?”

“Your cousin is dead,” Mingyu informs gravely. “King Wen Junhui was killed a week ago because his madness drove him to execute Jeon Woojin, the King’s Hand, and all members of House Stark at King’s Landing.”

Minghao tenses momentarily but he forces himself to relax. With a tilt of his head, he adopts a look of disdain— _peasant, what you mean to tell me?_

“House Baratheon lead a rebellion and killed many of your family,” Mingyu says, but he’s quick to amend. “Your mother and your younger sister escaped! I do not know where they are, but last I heard, they were safe!”

“And you sought me because—?” Minghao asks. His fists are curled up tightly, and his whole body is on edge. He never should have left King’s Landing. He should have returned three years ago. He should have—

“You are the next in succession,” Mingyu whispers, looking around cautiously. “Xu Minghao of House Targaryen, _you_ are the rightful successor to the Iron Throne.”

“I know what I am,” Minghao hisses, slamming his open palm against the wooden table. “But why are _you_ here?”

“It’s because I—because King Wen Junhui was not mad,” Mingyu says, flinching as the table cracks. “He was not a mad king, and I know who framed him to be one.”

“I swear if you say something stupid like the Baratheons,” Minghao threatens. He leans over the table and grabs Mingyu’s collar. The gold chain glistens against the other’s collarbones, and Minghao pulls him in slowly. “I will kill you right here.”

“House Tyrell,” Mingyu breathes. Minghao pauses. Oh, now this is interesting. “The family that banished me. They planned this.”

“For a good kid with a good heart,” Minghao smirks, loosening his hold on the other’s collar. “You aren’t that terrible of a Tyrell.”

“I already told you,” Mingyu frowns. The man shoves Minghao’s hands off and fixes his clothes indignantly. “I’m _not_ a Tyrell.”

\---

Minghao has never returned to Dragonstone with such a heavy heart.

He didn’t expect Kwon Soonyoung to have died in the rebellion, but when he hears of Chan’s death, Minghao figures it made somewhat sense. The young bastard had always been Soonyoung’s fatal weakness, and Junhui used to say it all the time in a joking tone— _he’ll be the death of you._ To his own credit, Soonyoung never denied it.

“It’s unfortunate that you return to Dragonstone like this.”

Minghao knows everyone has aged since he’s last visited Westeros, but he’s not ready for how old his younger sister looks. Xu Liangrong is twenty-years-old yet she looks much older. Her eyes are dark and cheeks shallow. Liangrong actually inherited some of the Targaryen paleness, but instead of ethereal, she looks sickly and grey—almost like the stone walls. Nothing like the glowing fourteen-year-old girl he last saw.

“But it’s good to know you are safe, brother,” she says gently. Her eyes water but she does not cry. “We tried to get in contact with you earlier, but no courier dared to head out so far into the Valyrian peninsula.”

“They recovered the bodies?” Minghao asks. They are not the most affectionate of siblings, and he understands she probably needs her space to mourn first so he gives it to her.

“The King’s and Soonyoung’s,” she answers.

“What of Chan’s?” Minghao asks. _What of father’s?_

“We could not find whole pieces,” Liangrong answers. She sways a little but leans against the wall, refusing to fall. “But they gathered whatever they could find.”

“I see,” Minghao says quietly. “How will they be honored?”

“Honored?” his sister laughs. Her voice is thin and hysterical. “What _honor_ is left? How can we lay them to rest? No proper ceremony, no proper burial? How can the Father accept them into the golden halls?”

“Then we will honor them the Targaryen way,” Minghao says.

“With what?” she cries, and it’s the first tears he’s seen her ever cry in years. “With _fire and blood?_ ”

“Yes,” Minghao says solemnly. She looks up in surprise.

“You’re serious,” Liangrong whispers. “I—I worried what would happen when you returned. Madness is not uncommon in our lineage, and something like this would trigger madness in anyone.”

“I am not anyone, my dear sister,” Minghao says. Walking into the throne room, he looks at the stone seat with resolve. “I am Xu Minghao of House Targaryen, of the Blood of Old Valyria, of the Robbed Queen—”

He takes several steps up the to the throne. Minghao caresses the dark stone before gripping the edge tightly. He lets go, turns around and seats himself on the throne.

“—Prince of Dragonstone and the Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne.”

(“I basically put all my eggs in one basket,” Mingyu admits, watching Xu Minghao disappear up the steps to the fortress. “If he doesn’t make it to the Iron Throne, I’m a dead man.”

“Good for you those eggs are dragon eggs,” Seokmin laughs, struggling to pull up the boats to shore.

“Hah, this brother of mine believes in _dragons_ ,” Seungkwan huffs, pushing the boat from the back. His boots splash in the salty water. “Dragons only exist in Valyrian legends.”)

\---

They prepare their funeral pyres with whatever wood they could scavenge. On the fortress of stone and sand, it ends up being a more difficult task than expected, but Minghao is stubborn in wanting three separate pyres—one for Junhui, one for Soonyoung and one for Chan.

(In the early morning, his mother collected his father’s remains and sailed out into the Narrow Sea.

“I will honor my husband my own way,” she said coldly with no room for argument, and it’s not like either of her children ever tried.)

And no one is about to argue with the new Prince of Dragonstone.

In the light of the setting sun, the entire fortress of Dragonstone looks aflame with a burning orange and red glow around the structure. Just outside the stone fortress, they set up three funeral pyre next to each other with the former King in the middle and highest up. Soonyoung is to Junhui’s right, slightly lower than the King, and Chan is to the left on ground level.

Minghao lets his sister say her prayers—her Faith has always been stronger than his. She slowly unravels three small crystals from her coat pockets and places one at the foot of each pyre. Minghao gives her this comfort and motions for the box.

Mingyu stumbles forward and slowly places the box in his hand. Minghao takes it from the tall man, but Minghao glances at the other’s when the feeling of skin doesn’t disappear. Mingyu looks down puzzled, and in sudden realization, Mingyu let’s go of the box quickly.

“Brother, what are you—?” Liangrong begins but she’s shocked into silence.

Minghao opens the box, and his small audience gasps. Three glistening, scaly eggs are cushioned gently in the box—they are white, black and grey. They had been Junhui’s coronation gifts, and Minghao means to give it.

“Are those _dragon eggs_?” Mingyu asks. His eyes blown wide with awe. “If you sold those, you’d be richer than House Lannister!”

“They were not meant to be sold,” Minghao chides. He slowly takes out the white egg and hands it to Mingyu. Taking the egg gently in both hands, the man looks down at the Targaryen in confusion. “Go place them next to the King. They are his gifts.”

“All three of—”

“All three of them,” Minghao says, holding out the box with the remaining two. Mingyu places the white egg back into the cushioned indent and takes the box.

Minghao watches with a little amusement as the Tyrell fumbles up the makeshift ladder and arranges the eggs carefully around Junhui’s head. Coming down, Mingyu falls off the last few steps of the ladder, and he stumbles away, pretending his foot didn’t catch. The tall man has long limbs but very little control over them, Minghao observes.

But it isn’t time to be distracted. He has loved ones to send off.

Minghao motions for the fire torch and his sister passes it to him. He takes the weight of the flames and slowly approaches the pyres.

“I would pray, but I do not have faith towards any god,” Minghao says quietly. The fire crackles, sending sparks into the quiet afternoon sky. “I’ve only ever had faith in myself. While that doesn’t placate the dead, may it be a warning to the living.”

He throws the burning fire into the pyre and watches it burn. The flames lick up the sides of the structure, and Minghao feels his blood thrum with _something_. He steps forward and a gentle spark burns the tip of his shoe—

“Wait!”

Mingyu grabs Minghao’s arm in alarm.

“I cannot let you climb onto that pyre and watch you _burn_ ,” Mingyu says frantically. “I do not know if this is sudden Targaryen madness showing, but you said so yourself, you are the rightful successor to the Iron Throne!”

Minghao blinks at the sudden outburst.

“I—I will serve you, fight for you and if need be, die for you,” Mingyu declares. “So please, do not challenge the unwinnable!”

Minghao stares at the other’s hysteric expression with amusement—and maybe fondness? After traveling with Mingyu for the past couple of days, Minghao sees what Joshua meant all those years ago—a good kid with his heart in the right place.

“ _My King_ , please,” Mingyu begs. The glow of the fire dances on his tanned skin and spark in those desperate eyes. “Do not walk into the fires just to burn.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Minghao asks with a smile. He gently pries off the other’s hand and turns to the taller man. Reaching up, Minghao strokes the other’s cheek like he would comfort a child. “That was quite a declaration of loyalty, and I expect to collect, Kim Mingyu of House Not-Tyrell.”

“Please—”

“What do you want from me?” Minghao wonders out loud. “Are you worried for my safety because it may affect yours? Are you worried your plans may be foiled with my death?”

“I wanted House Tyrell to fall,” Mingyu answers in blunt honesty. “Now, I do not know. I just know I don’t want you to walk into that burning pyre to join the dead.”

“This is something I must do,” Minghao says lightly. “You do not understand.”

“Don’t ask me to understand!” Mingyu replies, leaning into the other’s touch.

“Then just watch,” Minghao says, rubbing the other’s cheek one more before turning away. He walks into the burning flames without a backwards glance. Minghao knows the other is watching.

The fire roars into the night, and Mingyu watches.

\---

The morning comes and the last embers of the fires glows.

Mingyu gazed upon the fire all night, or rather for as long as he could stay awake. Sometime during the night, Mingyu nodded off, collapsing into a pile next to the empty dragon egg box.

The morning light spills around the fortress and Mingyu opens his eyes with an unhappy groan. Realizing where he is, Mingyu scrambles onto his feet and looks wildly at the pile of ashes where the tall pyres once were.

A naked, ash smeared figure kneels in the sand—Mingyu gasps. Yes, he’s surprised the Targaryen is alive, but even more alarming, three tiny pairs of moving wings rustle around Minghao’s shoulders and lap. Tiny little heads peek out of the wings, and there’s no doubt about it.

They are dragons.

“For someone who claims to not believe in anything,” Minghao croaks. He holds up the tiny white dragon in his lap with both hands. “I still tried to ask forgiveness, and if you’ve decided I can continue on, I will—with no mercy and no regrets.”

Minghao stands up slowly and the ashes fall from his hair. Mingyu gasps once more. The Targaryen’s hair is bright red like freshly spilt blood.

“Junhui, Soonyoung and Chan,” Minghao says, and the dragons click their beaks response. “For you who were defamed and slain, I give you the chance to claim your own revenge.”

“Is that what you’ve decided to name them?” Mingyu asks. He still cannot believe his eyes—three moving and breathing dragons! Dragons!

“Chan the Small, for he was always the darling,” Minghao says, and the tiniest brown dragon snaps happily. “Soonyoung the Great, for he was a warrior to be feared”—the largest black dragon growls, hiccupping a tiny flame—“And Junhui the White, for he was purer than all the Kings that came before him.”

The pale white dragon coos at Minghao and nips the human’s nose.

“That declaration of loyalty from last night,” Minghao says. His voice still raspy from the settling ashes. “I hope you are ready to bend the knee.”

“Yes, my King,” Mingyu breathes. He falls to his knees immediately and stares up almost reverently.

“I will take back what belongs to my family,” Minghao declares into the dying embers. His dragons curl up against his naked skin and click their tongues in agreement. “I will take the Iron Thone with fire and blood, and those who dared to betray us will pay.”

\---

Yoon Jeonghan of House Tyrell is avoiding their guest on purpose. After the formal welcoming, Jeonghan hides deep in the courtyards of Highgarden.

The Death of the Mad King left an unpleasant taste in Jeonghan’s mouth. He’s met the young King on multiple occasions in their youth, and Wen Junhui was the farthest from Targaryen madness. Although, the cousin Xu Minghao seems to toe the line of greatness and madness.

Either way, Jeonghan knows of his own family’s participation. He’s not in the loop as his grandmother seems to be the head of the operation, but he knows his younger sister is stuck in the middle of it. She pranced off to King’s Landing a couple days ago, and Jeonghan worries it will be the last time he sees her.

The women of his family are too ambitious, and while ambition is something all Tyrells chased, Jeonghan worries of the truly mad Targaryen across the seas. Xu Minghao is up to something in Essos, and Jeonghan has a couple of guesses—probably soliciting an army of some sort.

“Lord Jeonghan, what a coincidence?”

Jeonghan sighs deeply but continues to admire the gold roses, ignoring the intruder.

“For you,” the intruder says, snapping off a golden flower and offering it to Jeonghan. “After all, no color goes better with a Tyrell than gold.”

“It’s rude to pick flowers in someone else’s garden,” Jeonghan says, finally acknowledging his unwanted guest. He plucks the rose out of the other’s hand and tosses it into the courtyard’s fountain. “And I thought gold was the color of House Lannister.”

“I guess it’s something we have in common then,” the Lannister smiles charmingly. His dark red robes contrast sharply with the golden trim and metal ornaments.

“What business do you have with me?” the Tyrell asks curtly.

“Let’s not be strangers,” the other says with a disarming grin. Jeonghan knows that look well— _I want something but I won’t tell you yet_. “They say House Tyrell is known for their weeds. Ah, excuse me, their _flowers_. What is your family motto? _Growing Strong_?”

“I’m glad you’ve kept note,” Jeonghan responds. He turns to gaze upon the roses once more, but a large human shadow blocks the golden glimmer.

“I heard there is a flower growing in the Targaryen garden,” the Lannister says, leaning into Jeonghan’s shoulder. “They say Xu Minghao of House Targaryen has three dragons and a golden rose with thorns. Is that true?”

“I do not know of flowers that grow in fire and blood,” Jeonghan replies evenly. Even as he says those words, his mind wanders to his cousin. If he had been home, Jeonghan would never have let them banish Mingyu, but the family knew this. They waited for Jeonghan to leave on business before finalizing the decision. And now, the family regrets. “Nor is it my place.”

“But Yoona, she knows, doesn’t she?” the other whispers, and Jeonghan stiffens at the mention of his younger sister. “After all, didn’t she poison—?”

“Let’s not do this, Choi Seungcheol of House Lannister,” Jeonghan growls, turning around and shoving the offending Lannister away. “I’m no longer fond of you to play these games.”

“I’m not trying to play games, Yoon Jeonghan of House Tyrell,” Seungcheol says seriously. The smile falls from his lip, and they form a tight line across his face. “The Targaryens will come after both our houses, and we both have people we want to protect.”

Jeonghan pauses. There’s something desperate and pleading in the other’s voice.

“Just as Mingyu grows—a flower in the fire and blood,” Seungcheol says. His voice dips and Jeonghan suppresses a shudder at the malice behind his words. “I ask you to choke the lion with your roots and draw blood with your thorns until everything is as red as the crimson field it lies on.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?” Jeonghan asks quietly.

“A Lannister always pays his debts,” Seungcheol answers.

(“Oh, it’s not that important,” Junhui laughs. “I saved Lee Jihoon’s life once, and you know the Lannisters and their debts.”)

\---

End?

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159271639@N03/24278245518/in/dateposted/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. We can all go home. This is my proudest update. Good night, this is the last chapter*gets bricked* jk we have one more chapter tomorrow for Halloween LOL
> 
> Yeah, for someone who's watched TWO episodes of GoT I think I did okay LOL Anyways, this is for Jess (my beta who's been the most supportive throughout this project) and I hope you enjoyed the next parts! 
> 
> Anyways, here are my lil writing notes for this...
> 
> Hand of the King – Jeon Woojin (Wonwoo’s dad) Stark  
> -Cue story of Jeon Wonwoo of the House Stark that i'll never write HAHAHAHA
> 
> Junhui – Prince of Dragonstone --> the king (Wen Junyi) + martell (Kwon Soohyun)  
> -Not a traditional Targaryen, some do not want him as king because of his passive demeanor (unfit for a king!), some want him as king (easier to manipulate!) 
> 
> Hoshi – Junhui’s cousin --> Martell (Kwon Soohyo, Soohyun’s older sister)  
> -Joke goes that because hoshi and Junhui were born around the same time and to the martell sisters, the children must have been switched  
> -Hoshi has the temperament and passion of a Targaryen (house Targaryen? Me? I wouldn’t dare! XD)  
> -They say he would have been the next Hand of the King
> 
> Chan – bastard child of Hoshi’s father (??? We don’t talk about him XD)  
> -hoshi’s mother takes the bastard child in (chan was born of passion and while our marriage yielded no passion, it was good to know he knew of it)  
> -hoshi’s very fond of chan and pretty much brings him along everywhere  
> -pretty much became hao’s unofficial younger brother
> 
> They died during an uprising – claims that King Junhui went mad, paranoid  
> -“He did seem too behaved for a Targaryen,” they whisper. “Hidden madness that one.”  
> -They killed Junhui, Hoshi, Chan, Lee Woojin and a shit ton of other peeps at court  
> \----Killed Minghao’s father (his mother and younger sister fled)  
> -DK/Boo manage to salvage some of their bodies from desecration and ship them into Dragonstone  
> \----This is where Minghao burns the bodies and enters the flames w/ the dragon eggs blood magic (making shit up now) also strips his hair of color going blonde like the Targaryen namesake, but it’s dyed with the blood of his ‘brothers’, he basically emerges from the flames with bright red hair  
> \----Names his dragons: Jun, Hoshi, Dino 
> 
> Anyways, ahem. Hope everyone enjoys~!
> 
> EDIT (11/3): BIRTHDAY ART FOR JESS <3 ^^


	32. Third Time's the Charm (Usually)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Halloween Town AU] Minghao is the Jack-o-Lantern of the town, and he wants to show his love to Mingyu, the Rag Doll. What's this? There are pink hearts everywhere! What's this? ...Valentine's Day?

**Third Time's the Charm (Usually)**

\---

_Boys and girls of every age,_

_Wouldn’t you like to see something strange?_

_Come with us and you will see,_

_This is our town of Halloween._

\---

The eternal night of Halloween Town is surprisingly quiet.

Usually, there is no absence of screams and ghoulish whispers, but, at this very moment, there isn’t even the skittering of huge spiders or the slithering of striped snakes. The wind is holding its breath, and the shadows on the moon are hiding.

The Pumpkin King, Xu Minghao, flies down the dark road, literally on fire, and yells unintelligibly about _hearts_ and _pink balloons!_

While they all hailed to the pumpkin song, the occupants of Halloween Town are still somewhat frightened of the skeleton. Even normally, Minghao is an imposing figure. Tall and slender, Minghao stretches out his black and white striped suit with eerie proportions. His bat bowtie glares and screeches in the light, and his boney white hands are larger than life—pun intended.

He is exceptionally scary, and all of Halloween Town loves and fears him for it.

Tonight, he’s even more frightening—a blazing skeleton sprinting down the road. The last time they saw Minghao so excited, the townspeople took on Christmas. While it had been a fun and interesting experience, it merely meant another holiday to prepare for and plenty of nightmares.

(Although, nightmares are good for any day of the year.)

While the shadows groan, the skeletons hanging on the trees giggle. Oh, they know why Minghao is so excited.

 _It’s kind of cute,_ they chatter to each other, swinging from their cervical vertebra. _The Pumpkin King is crushing on the Rag Doll Mingyu. Teehee. Teehee._

\---

Rag Doll Mingyu is Dr. Jihoon’s creation. Mingyu was brought to life through science and a stroke of lightning.

While Mingyu was just created to help out in the laboratory, the rag doll was good with his hands and took up sewing—if not just to patch himself up. According to the rag doll, it eventually lead to an interest in the cut and pattern. And Minghao was surprised and pleased to find a fashion cohort.

Mingyu is the only one who understands Minghao’s need for fashionable suits.

“I like sewing them anyways,” Mingyu smiles with a few loose threads hanging off his lips. “It’s better than stitching myself up all the time.”

Next to the largest window of the inventor’s laboratory, they sit side by side under the bright moonlight. Mingyu tightens the threads on Minghao’s cuffs, and the skeleton watches quietly with hearts in his eyes. He keeps his free hand from reaching out and brushing the stray yarn out of Mingyu’s eyes.

“He’s a _skeleton_ ,” Dr. Jihoon grumbles, adjusting the screw on his head with a few twists. He hobbles past them and sneers at the nauseating display. “What kind of modesty does a skeleton need?”

“It’s fashion,” Minghao defends, and Dr. Jihoon snorts.

“Fashion, hah!” the mad inventor laughs bitterly, walking towards the hallway. “Back in my day, skeletons were bare and scared children with their aged bones. Now? Prancing around in _suits_ and _bowties_.”

“Doctor, I can hear the _bah humbug_ ,” Mingyu teases, glancing up from his stitching.

“Don’t remind me of that Christmas debacle!” Jihoon yells back, disappearing into the shadows.

“He enjoyed it,” Mingyu says with a smile, and Minghao watches as the thread that keeps Mingyu’s jaw together tugs with each lip quirk. “The so-called Christmas debacle.”

“Did you?” Minghao asks. Mingyu scrunches his nose in thought, and the thread pulls more.

“It’s was fun to make your Santa suit,” Mingyu laughs, and the thread slowly comes loose. Mingyu’s jaw droops, but the rag doll keeps talking. “You look ridiculous in that oversized red—”

Minghao reaches out and tugs the thread until the other’s lower jaw aligns again. He pulls his other hand free from Mingyu’s stitching, and uses both hands to tie the loose string into a pretty bow.  

“Pretty,” Minghao whispers, fiddling with the bow with a bony finger. He cups the rag doll’s cheek with his large skeleton hand and marvels at how perfectly Mingyu fits in his hands. Mingyu doesn’t flush—he has no blood—but some cotton accumulate in his cheeks, puffing them up cutely.

“Th-thanks,” Mingyu coughs, clearing his throat. The rag doll grabs Minghao’s sleeve cuff again. “Uh, let me just finish this.”

They sit in sweet silence, and Minghao just watches the other’s shaky stitches. Mingyu does so much for him—sewing new suits and patching up old ones—but Minghao doesn’t do too much for Mingyu.

And he really wants to.

\---

On a trip to the Holiday Trading Post, Minghao learns of Valentine's Day.

“That’s it!” Minghao yelps, jumping up in glee, and Santa Claus shakes his head in a deep sigh.

\---

“So you want to give something to Mingyu for this Valentine’s Day holiday?” Seungcheol, the mayor of Halloween Town asks. His head spins from the face with a pleasant smile to the one with a confused frown. His other expressions are fixed but unmoving. The mayor barely got out of his stifling top hat and suit before the Pumpkin King burst through his door on fire.

“Yeah!” Minghao says excitedly, dousing himself with the water from an empty flower vase. The ghost inside the vase floats out with a low moan. With the last of the flames extinguished, Minghao steps into the mayor’s living room. He tickles the man-eating wreaths hanging from the door. “I heard Valentine’s Day is a day to proclaim love!”

“And when is this Valentine’s Day?” Seungcheol asks. His face twirls back to the pleasant smile before deciding halfway to go to a confused expression. “Shouldn’t we be worried about—?”

“It’s in February but time is a social construct!” Minghao dismisses. He pulls the growling wreath down and twirls it around his neck like a scarf. “Just like every night is a good night for a scare! Any day is a good day for Valentine’s Day!”

“What kind of gift are you thinking?” Seungcheol asks. He counts down the days to Halloween in his head. They still have time. After all, if discouraged, Minghao would go and do things on his own—like kidnap Santa Clause.

And Seungcheol is not about to listen to Jeonghan the cupid whine about the cheap decorations in his house. Once is enough!

“I am thinking about taking him to see a show!” Minghao prattles, cooing at the man-eating wreath. He strides around Seungcheol’s living room with his long legs. “Dino Scissorhands has a _terrifying_ show beyond the pumpkin patches and I think it would be most romantic!”

“Scissorhands?” Seungcheol echoes. If he remembers correctly, Mingyu’s a _rag_ doll. His face twists from confused to alarmed, but before the mayor can say a word, the skeleton wraps the man-eating wreath around Seungcheol’s top hat and skips out the door. “Minghao! Ah, never mind. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Apparently, the worst that could happen is Mingyu getting his leg cut off.

“It’s really okay!” Mingyu reassures the skeleton, holding closed the gaping hole of his thigh and hopping on one foot. “Once we get back, I can just stitch myself up! That’s the nice thing about being made of fabric!”

Feeling all sorts of guilt, Minghao looks down at the amputated leg he holds. This isn’t what was meant to happen.

“Eh? Myungho?” Mingyu questions. Minghao shoves the amputated leg in Mingyu’s free hand, turns around and crouches down. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a piggyback ride,” Minghao answer, turning his skull to look at the rag doll. “Get on. I’ll carry you back home.”

Mingyu slowly reaches around and puts one arm around Minghao’s neck. The skeleton lifts the other up easily—Mingyu is just a bag of cotton—and carries Mingyu through the pumpkin patch.

Minghao guesses the night didn’t end up too badly. Mingyu kisses him on his cheek bone for his efforts—and he receives a disapproving glare from the inventor.

Just as Mingyu turns to return to the laboratory, Minghao notices the little bow he tied last time. It makes his decayed heart beat faster and if he still bled, Minghao’s cheeks and ears would flush.

But he’s a skeleton so his jaw unhinges instead.

\---

“That wasn’t too smart, hyung,” Seungkwan the Christmas elf says, sighing into his gloves.

“You should give him a present!” Seokmin, another elf, squeals.

“Oh! Like a Christmas present!” Soonyoung, the last elf, nods excitedly.

Christmas Town is bustling with its usual vigor. No matter what season, the occupants of Christmas Town are preparing for Christmas. There’s always toys to be painted and pies to be baked!

Minghao sinks deeper into the fluffy white snow. It’s still amazing no matter how many times he sees the festive town. It’s the opposite of Halloween Town, and once upon a Christmas, Minghao craved it. But he’s learned since then that Halloween is where he belongs.

And it’s only in Halloween Town that Minghao can find Mingyu.

“Why would you give someone a Christmas gift in _October_?” Seungkwan asks with an offended squint. “And Myungho-hyung said it was for _Valentine’s Day_.”

“Isn’t Valentine’s Day in February though?” Seokmin asks, tilting his head to the side. The little bell on the elf’s hat jingles melodically. “Why don’t you wait for February?”

“And get him a Christmas gift now!” Soonyoung adds.

“Valentine’s Day is a day to declare love,” Minghao says dutifully. He slowly rolls little snowballs, stacking them on top of each other. “Just like any night is good for a scare. Any day is a good day to declare love.”

“So actually,” Soonyoung contemplates. His little elf ears twitching in thought. “You just want a love gift.”

“Yes!” Minghao agrees, slumping back into the snow. He stares up into the colored lights decorating the small houses. He moves his long limbs in an arch like the elves had shown him. They called this making a Christmas angel. “But why is it so hard?”

“I know the perfect love gift!” Soonyoung exclaims, jumping into the snow next to Minghao. “A nutcracker!”

“A what?” Minghao asks, sitting up.

“A nutcracker!” Soonyoung says happily. He claps his hand together in excitement. “It’s a holiday classic! It represents wintery love!”

“Show me the nutcracker,” Minghao says seriously. He follows the elf into one of the little workshops, folding himself over to fit into the tiny door.

“Oh dear Christmas spirits,” Seungkwan moans into his gloves. The bell on his hat flops down and jingles sadly. “Nutcrackers. Of all the Christmas delights, Soonyoung-hyung suggests a _nutcracker_.”

“Well, I mean it’s better than a bag of coal?” Seokmin shrugs, patting the snow angel outline Minghao left.

“At least a bag of coal is useful,” Seungkwan sighs, slowly trudging after the skeleton. “Come on. Let’s at least make sure Soonyoung-hyung doesn’t send Myungho-hyung off with all the walnuts in Christmas Town.”

“That’s a lot of walnuts,” Seokmin says wistfully, following his friend into the workshop. “But I mean, it’s a nutcracker. What could go wrong?”

Apparently, it can go wrong.

“Is this a new fright?” Mingyu asks, staring apprehensively at the large wooden figurine. “It’s definitely frightening.”

In his haste, Minghao brought the wooden nutcracker unwrapped—it’s large painted eyes and gaping mouth are terrifying in the dark night. Minghao hadn’t been thinking when he lugged his large package upstairs to Mingyu’s room, but now the skeleton realizes this particular love gift looks creepy. In fact, he thinks he scared away the little ghoul children when he passed by the graveyard. At the door, even Dr. Jihoon gave him the weirdest look before tightening the screws on his forehead and hobbling away.

But Mingyu’s hesitant gaze confirms it. Damn, he should have listened to Seungkwan. As chatty as the little elf is, Seungkwan usually has a good head on his shoulders.

“Uh, it’s a nutcracker,” Minghao answer.

“I guess that is terrifying,” Mingyu murmurs, still eyeing the figurine from a distance. “That would be quite a fright for human males.”

“What do you mean that’s— _oh_ ,” Minghao realizes. His pelvic bone shudders in phantom pain. _Oh_ , just thinking about it—!

“It’s good to know you’re working on new ways to scare,” Mingyu smiles stiffly. He sits down on the bed and crosses his arms in annoyance.  “Although, I thought you weren’t working tonight and we would, um, hang out?”

Minghao moves his jaw but no sound comes out. He hoists the nutcracker up and tosses it out the open window.

“We _will_ hang out,” Minghao promises, sitting down next to the rag doll. He leans in a presses the crown of his skull against the soft fabric of Mingyu’s forehead. “I’m sorry I brought work into our personal time.”

“You’re going to have to work harder on that apology,” Mingyu laughs, pulling him down onto the bed.

Minghao guesses the night didn’t end up too badly. They spend the rest of it wrapped up in each other and Minghao ties all the rag doll’s loose threads into little bows.

Before Minghao leaves, Mingyu forgives him, walking him to the door, and Minghao is proud to see his handiwork swinging with each step. He makes a note to learn more creative bow tying. They’re so pretty against the fabric of Mingyu’s skin.

\---

“Why didn’t you come to me first?” Jeonghan the cupid asks, brushing a long lock of hair behind his ear. His fluffy white wings rustle behind him, and his white robes sway in the nonexistent wind. “I am the guardian of Saint Valentine’s Day.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Minghao says. He would never admit that Valentine’s Day Town creeps him out. There’s just so much pink and red hearts, floating around aimlessly, and the clouds shroud the entire town in white mystery. It’s disarmingly pleasant with the floral scent and soft lighting, but Minghao reminds himself constantly that all cupids carry arrows. And if Seungcheol isn’t lying, some of those arrows are deadly.

“Well I’m glad you finally came to me,” Jeonghan declares. With a decisive snap of his fingers, a banquet table of _things_ appeared. “Valentine’s Day is all about chocolate, flowers and sex. Of course, sex between a skeleton and a rag doll might be a stretch of the imagination, but you can still do the chocolate and flowers.”

“I can still have sex,” Minghao mumbles quietly. He doesn’t expect to be heard, but a different cupid chokes behind him. The skeleton turns around just in time to see Jisoo fall out of the clouds.

“I guess our imaginations aren’t as stretchy,” Jisoo coughs. He slowly regains his balance and smiles apologetically at Minghao.

“But you know what is?” Jeonghan teases with a smirk.

“Answer that and I’ll put an arrow through your head,” Jisoo says with a beautiful smile and a threatening aura. It’s somehow even creepier than any of the creepy crawlies in Halloween Town.

“Well, if you can do chocolate, flowers and sex,” Jeonghan continues. He waves a nonchalant hand in apology, and Jisoo accepts it. The dark aura lifts. “Then why not all three? I say start with flowers, then go onto the chocolate, and finally sex!”

“Must you be so crude?” Jisoo frowns.

“Excuse me, and finally _make love_ ,” Jeonghan repeats dryly, raising a delicate eyebrow. He turns to Jisoo with a smirk. “Or fuck.”

“ _Yoon Jeonghan_!” Jisoo sighs in exasperation.

“Either way, feel free to take some stuff here with you,” the smug cupid says, waving his arms over the ornate banquet table. “We got flowers, chocolate, flavored lube, toys—”

“How about we go away and let him look through this himself?” Jisoo interjects. He grabs the other cupid and pulls Jeonghan away. The lazy cupid doesn’t even get up from his cloud, and poor Jisoo pulls the cupid _and_ the fluffy chair. “It’s nice to see you again Myungho! If you ever need anything from St. Valentine’s Day Town, ask me next time.”

“Oh please, you would give him the _Bible_ ,” Jeonghan snorts.

They slowly fade away into the clouds, and Minghao is left alone with the table of _things_.

While Minghao is curious about the toys, the skeleton chooses the safest option for now. He’s learned from his nutcracker mistake. There is foundation in cliches—a good ol’ jump scare never goes out of fashion. So he picks out a couple of wilting flowers and a box of chocolates.

Feeling much more confident than any previous time, Minghao marches back to Halloween Town. Third time’s the charm! What could go wrong?

Apparently, something could still go wrong.

Mingyu embraced the wilted bouquet with the enthusiasm Minghao hoped for, but faced with the chocolates, Mingyu quiets.

“They look nice,” Mingyu says quietly, staring down at the heart and shell shaped confectionary. The cotton rolls off his cheeks, hollowing them.

“Uh, I got them from St. Valentine’s Day Town,” Minghao explains frantically. His jaw clicks with how quickly he’s talking. He doesn’t know why Mingyu looks so upset, and so he tries to explain everything. “The cupids said that chocolates were good gifts! Uh, and I wanted to give a love gift? And I thought the cupids would know best. Of course, Jeonghan-hyung actually said flowers, chocolate and sex, but—”

“It’s not because you don’t like my chocolates anymore?” Mingyu interrupts with hopeful eyes.

“—I didn’t think they could help in the sex department,” Minghao rambles. He pauses and processes the question. “Wait, _what_?”

“My chocolates don’t ever look as pretty as these,” Mingyu admits, staring down at the opened box. In the moonlight, the perfectly shaped chocolates shine. “I don’t have molds and well, I’m made of fabrics so I can’t handle chocolate well anyways.”

“No, no, no!” Minghao sputters, grabbing the other’s hands around the box. “I just wanted to give you something because I wanted you to know how much I love you!”

The skeleton tenses, and all his joints crack. Oh shoot, he didn’t mean to confess like this. In his mind, Minghao imagined something romantic—on a steep cliff with the wind howling, moon shining and the shadows dancing. Instead, he hastily declared his feeling in the corner of Dr. Jihoon’s laboratory.

“But I already know?” Mingyu asks with confused frown.

“You...know?” Minghao whispers.

“Of course I know,” Mingyu says. He looks down at the skeleton with sudden realization. “Oh no, _you_ didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know?” Minghao echoes dumbly.

“Our Pumpkin King, Seo Myungho, isn’t the brightest ghost in the graveyard,” Mingyu laughs. The rag doll tosses the chocolates onto the table and pulls the skeleton into a hug. “I love you, Myungho. I don’t need flowers or chocolate—although the flowers are nice.”

“I can do flowers,” Minghao says. “I can do lots of flowers.”

“And sex is nice too,” Mingyu whispers into the top of Minghao’s skull.

“Oh I can do _lots_ of—” Minghao begins.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” Dr. Jihoon yells from the room over. “That’s it! Mingyu you are officially kicked out! Get out of this laboratory and don’t ever bring back your skeleton boyfriend!”

“You’re missing the _bah humbug_!” Mingyu yells back.

“ _I hate Christmas!_ ”

“Well thankfully it’s going to be Halloween soon,” Minghao chuckles, holding his boyfriend—heh, _yes_ , _boyfriend_ —closer. Minghao frowns and pulls away. He stares up at the rag doll. “Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s the 30th. Well, I’m glad you realized today,” Mingyu says in relief. “Seungcheol-hyung and I were going to run an intervention. You’ve _never_ forgotten about Halloween.”

“It’s— _it’s the 30th_?!” Minghao yells. He paces around in the laboratory frantically. “We have kids to scare! Adults to haunt! Oh dear me, oh dear! _It’s Halloween tomorrow._ ”

“Technically, today,” Mingyu interjects, pointing at the moon.

Minghao stares out the window in shock. The moon is at the highest position. It’s official Halloween.

He turns to Mingyu with a ghoulish smile.

“This is Halloween,” Minghao whispers. His wide smile splits into his cheeks. “Don’t we love it now?”

(“I do love it,” Mingyu says out the opened window. Minghao jumped out ablaze again, storming into town with his best suit. Mingyu touches the little bow on his wrist that Minghao tenderly knotted. “You are the Halloween spirit, and oh, do I love it.”)

\---

_In this town we call home_

_Everyone hail to the pumpkin song_

\---

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159271639@N03/26282038799/in/dateposted/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween. We are now officially done w/ 31 Days of Gyuhao ;;A;;)/ 
> 
> the reason the update is late is 'cause of the lil picture LOL how you guys enjoy~
> 
> Thank you for everyone who made this October a blessing. Thank you for the birthday wishes and the get well wishes ;;A;; Thank you for everyone who supported this project, from pre-planning to the beginning to the struggling midchapters and to the end. 
> 
> LARGE shout out to Jess @twinklingpaopufruit who’s been pretty much with me the entire way (u should go love her, she deserves it all, but lets be honest, if ur gyuhao fam, you already know her so go and love her some more) and my ficlets would NOT be half as good without her edits/comments. Thanks for being the best beta any writer could ever ask for! ^^
> 
> A shout out to Yun @alateni, who even in her busiest days remembers this croaky old grandma <3 Thanks for looking out for me when the stuggles were real. <3
> 
> Another shout out to Qiqi @kjhs who exposes me as the fake Junhui stan I am. Thank you for being such a friend ;;A;;)/ <3
> 
> And of course, the twitter fam <3 Thanks for being such great supports <3
> 
> To be honest, I wrote 31 Days of Gyuhao for a personal reason. I felt stuck and I wanted to prove to myself that I was making progress in my life. At least, I wanted to turn 24 with physical evidence that I'm doing *something*. Even if my career isn't moving, even if my family relationships are stagnant, even if I feel like I'm doing nothing with my life; at least, I'm writing.
> 
> So thank you for everyone who's supported me throughout this time. I treasure every single comment and all of your readership. I hope this little collection of stories brought joy (and an occasional tear) to everyone's hearts, and with this, Liz is signing out for now ^^ 
> 
> I will be back with more svt fics for sure! LOL but after a 31 day sprint, imma...chill for a little bit LOL

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a collection of GyuHao ficlets that have accumulated over time, either in my fanfic folder or in my head.
> 
> PLEASE check the table of contents (chp 1) for the ratings and warning on character death. I will NOT be posting character death warnings on each individual chapter. 
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> Jess who teaches me how to English (my godly beta),  
> Qiqi who screams with me nightly,  
> Yun who mothers me even though I'm older,  
> and Laina, Kait and KC who listen to me anguish on twitter every day LOL <3


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